


Take Umbridge

by Tom_Haskworth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Training, Independent Harry, Payback, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4810493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tom_Haskworth/pseuds/Tom_Haskworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furious super Harry turns time to his advantage. This... is... a... lie! It is NOT a lie! Don't make me angry, Umbridge. You won't like me if I'm angry. Payback! AU. Starts summer between Book 4 and 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just me then!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Britspeak: Trainer = sneaker. Stabilizer = bicycle training wheel. Bluebottle = blow-fly. Blinker = blinder. Blinkered = narrow-minded.
> 
> Click the 'Hide Creator's Style' button above for the default AO3 style.
> 
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**Chapter 1**

**Just me then!**

  


  
  
  


**Brooding**

A rather ordinary-looking youth with untidy black hair was walking sulkily along Magnolia Crescent in the worst of the afternoon heat. Occasionally his trainers scuffed grumpily on the paving cracks but otherwise his stride was even and determined as one who knew precisely where his route would take him. But there are other ways of being lost. This particular boy's disturbing thoughts strayed as wildly as the stairs of the school of magic that he attended. 

Many days had now passed since the end of the Hogwarts' year when Harry Potter had witnessed the violent death of Cedric Diggory at Voldemort's cruel re-embodiment but that experience continued to trouble him. The ordeal and its aftermath had affected him very deeply. Few believed his story and that had fueled within him a smouldering frustration. Now isolated and oppressed in Little Whinging, his anguish was multiplied by the lack of guidance and support he craved. Even his friends seemed to have forsaken him and on top of everything, his scar was causing him more pain - searing pain. He felt very, very, vulnerable. 

"Oy! Watchit Mister!" 

A tiny girl, fearlessly owning the pavement, swerved her stabilizer by his heel on some life quest. Harry eased his fingers back from his wand as he watched the little legs pedal their furious way round the next bend. A large bluebottle chased past his ear after her, buzzing excitedly through the hot air. 

What was it that foul wizard had boasted amidst the cold, dark tombs and gravestones? "I shall demonstrate my supremacy by killing Harry Potter ... there will be no doubt which of us is the stronger." 

Harry knew Voldemort would never stop trying to kill him so how could Harry, still not quite fifteen years old, be able to defend himself against such powerful magic? Somehow he had to prepare for the inevitable as best he could without help. 

"Just me then!" he exclaimed angrily to the uncaring street. 

The wings of a startled pigeon noisily thrashed the stifling air. Harry's withering scowl followed the bird upwards then forlornly searched the relentless blue for any sign of snowy white - but even Hedwig seemed to have deserted him. No messages or information had been received from anyone, and the few Daily Prophets that he had so irritably discarded lacked the expected Ministry announcements concerning the Dark Lord. Did no one realize that there was an evil wizard out there plotting to murder him! Was anybody even bothered? 

Harry reluctantly accepted that he would have to work it out alone and that he needed to make a new effort. He considered every idea that might give him an edge. He knew that he could not train or practice during the holidays because of the Ministry's underage trace. He cursed that restriction and every obstacle that seemed to be placed in his way. What next? 

He groaned as he recognized the figure striding towards him at an angle across the road. The narrow, bony face of his Aunt Petunia looked white and pinched even in the sultry summer heat. She was lugging a bulging shopping bag and did not seem happy about it. 

"What are you doing here!" she shrilled while still twenty paces away. "I needed you to fetch some cheese dip for the soiree - and don't look like that!" 

"Like what?" 

"Like you're hard done to..." As she closed in on Harry, she paused - but only for a second. "You slipped out didn't you? Just to avoid going to the shops! And here's me working my fingers down to the bone-" 

"How could I have? I've been out over an hour. And anyway, why would I go out to avoid having to go out? I'd have been glad to get out of the house just to..." 

Harry tailed off resignedly. It was too hot to argue. 

"Just to... what?" 

"Nothing." 

"So how come you knew then?" she said triumphantly as if that proved something. "Here - I've got something for you. I've enough to worry about." She rummaged amongst her shopping and pulled out a packet of chocolate digestives. Harry stared in disbelief. She then tucked the biscuits under her arm and thrust the shopping bag with the remainder of the shopping towards Harry. 

"Don't hang about! Get that lot home! Now!" 

Harry sighed and accepted the extra burden but he was relieved to see his aunt stride off towards a neighbouring house even though he knew she'd be gossiping, sipping tea and dunking his favourite biscuits. At least she'd be gone for an hour or more and he wouldn't have to walk along with her and be nagged all the way home. His thoughts rapidly sprang back to more serious matters than cheese dip. Despite all the harrassments and obstacles, he had to somehow make himself ready for any kind of dark threat. 

Certainly he was not ready when Dementors attacked him later that summer - though when he did eventually unleash his Patronus and scattered the repugnant creatures he became more and more determined that he would not be unprepared in the future. He needed time he realized - time to learn and train, free of petty restrictions and stupid rules; free of schoolwork; free of interference. If only he had a whole year to himself, able to practice any magic he wished, free of nosy intrusions and wagging fingers. 

In the days following the attack, he brooded more and more deeply within himself. His hopes had been raised temporarily when Lupin arrived with a group of wizards to rescue him from the suffocating confinement of the Dursleys' home but it was soon obvious they were holding back - keeping something from him. They offered no useful help or advice and although at his hearing, Dumbledore did successfully defend his use of underage magic, the headmaster then turned his back on Harry. He was alone. 

_Fine! Have it your way. I'll work it out myself. You keep your secrets and I'll keep mine!_

By the start of the school year he had worked out a plan. _Power comes from knowledge and training and that takes time. I must spend much more time studying and practising defensive magic._

  


**Time For Dobby**

On the first day back at school in the Great Hall, Harry was vaguely aware of the mutterings and black looks that flew his way from every quarter but he was way past caring anymore. He had already resigned himself to expect criticism and paid little attention. He did however, notice that the new Defence teacher was Dolores Umbridge - a sneering, simpering Ministry woman he had seen at his trial. The arrogance and bigotry she had displayed at his hearing had disgusted him. Her attitude was a biased and blinkered denial of common sense. Here, her speech was so fuddled and tedious he lost interest in the first half minute. He commented sullenly to Hermione about her but he was just making conversation. All that mattered was that he prepare himself for Voldemort's next attack - whether it was this year, next year, or ten years hence. 

His resignation to his own self-reliance caused him to ignore his friends more and more too. They seemed just as far away now as they had during the summer. He tried not to flinch as a stab of pain pierced his scar. He stared miserably at his untasted meal and braced himself. 

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Hermione. She and Ron were staring at him over the evening meal. He knew they had been talking about him. 

"Nothing. I'm fine." responded Harry, dully, poking at the food on his plate with a fork. Would his plan be successful? Could he sustain the effort for an entire year? He started to go over his plan again in his mind. 

"We're your friends, Harry. Why won't you-" There was desperation in Hermione's voice but Harry would not look at her. It was just too painful to let them into the hell where he now lived. He shook his head but this made the pain in his forehead seem worse. 

"But-" 

"I said I'm fine!" he exploded, thrusting his plate away and reaching under the table for his bag. _Why won't they just leave me alone like they did all summer when I needed them?_

Abandoning the evening meal, Harry left his friends, looped his carry bag over his shoulder and slipped away. There was a disused meeting room in a remote corridor that would do fine for practice. It had long since been bricked up but last year Fred Weasley had shown him how to get in through the flue which was shared with an adjacent room's fireplace. He was sure he could find it again but first he had to arrange provisions and books and when and how to use the room. There was one person he could always rely on. 

He walked cautiously downstairs to look for Dobby. Harry found him carrying a sack, waiting at the corner of the corridor leading to the kitchen. 

"Dobby, do you know what a Time-Turner is?" asked Harry. 

"Of course, sir. It turns back time, sir." 

"Do you know where I can get one - without anyone knowing about it I mean?" 

"Dobby knows exactly where there is one, sir!" Dobby said happily. "Dobby has been shown it in the Room of Forgotten Things, sir! Doesn't Harry Potter remember?" 

"The what? I never heard of it." 

"The Room of Forgotten Things, sir! It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement! It can be whatever is needed sir. Very few know of it, except us, sir." 

"Dobby, I tell you I never heard of it," snapped Harry impatiently. "Can you show me - it's important." 

"Harry Potter wishes to take Dobby?" 

"No, Dobby. How can I take you? I've no idea where it is." 

"But Harry Potter, sir!" 

"Please Dobby, will you lead the way?" 

"Does Harry Potter wish to go now, sir?" 

"Yes, and Dobby, not a word of this to anyone." 

"Of course not, Sir." 

Dobby led Harry up to the seventh floor corridor and showed him a blank wall where, he said, a door would appear if a person was in real need. Harry looked around. He took careful note of the position of the featureless wall opposite a tapestry that had been turned around the wrong way. That would be easy to remember to help locate the wall. 

Harry pestered Dobby to show him exactly how the Room of Requirement worked and became more and more intrigued. He was amazed at the room's power and the possibilities that were being revealed to him. He had no idea such a room could exist. He dismissed his plan to use the old meeting room for practice; this magical room was far better - it could be anything he needed and according to Dobby, nobody knew of it. 

"How big can it be, Dobby?" 

"As big as sir needs," grinned the elf, happily, then added, "But Harry Potter has to really need it, sir, not just wish it." 

"And it can provide anything that one requires?" 

"Not food nor precious things sir. That is not possible sir." 

"But what exactly are the forgotten things you mentioned?" 

Dobby showed Harry how to reveal the room as the Room of Forgotten Things. Harry looked with dismay at the acres of dusty shelving and abandoned items in a huge hall that extended out of sight in the distance like a vast cathedral piled high with junk. The elf led him confidently through the aisles of discarded items; he took him as far as the eye could see and twice as far again and then he stopped abruptly. A little further ahead, Harry glimpsed someone else, obscured by shadow. He looked down with annoyance at Dobby. 

"I thought you said nobody knows about this place, Dobby?" said Harry, cautiously. He wasn't happy about sharing this room. 

Dobby was surprised. He looked into the distance searching for anyone that might be there. He seemed confused for a while. 

"Dobby understands, sir. Dobby now recognizes him, sir. He will not trouble us." 

"You know him?" 

"Oh yes, sir. Dobby knows the gentleman, sir." They walked around the next row of shelving. 

"But what's he doing here, Dobby? I want this just for me." 

"This room, sir? It will be sir, Dobby promises, sir. Only Harry Potter will be here sir." Dobby turned. 

"It's in here, sir." Dobby stood before an old crate upon which was placed a small wooden box with rusted iron bands. 

"May Dobby put down this sack, sir? So Dobby might open the box? It is getting very heavy." 

"Oh - sorry, Dobby, yes. I'm sorry I've put you to all this trouble." 

"Harry Potter apologizes to Dobby! Oh sir! Harry Potter is so gracious, sir - to think of such as Dobby - almost as an... equal, sir! But a sack is no trouble at all to a house-elf, sir. Thank you, sir." 

"But you just said..." Harry gave up trying to understand the elf and watched him open up the box to reveal an ugly collection of mostly common metal jewellery, copper, brass, iron, some of it broken. "I can see why someone would want to forget about this lot." 

"Harry Potter should pick up the shiny one with the hourglass very, very carefully, sir." advised Dobby. 

"This? Yes I recognize it now. It's the same as the one Hermione had." Harry picked up the Time-Turner and inspected it closely then murmured to himself, "Maybe it is that one." 

"Does it work?" 

"Work, sir? Yes of course, sir." 

"You've tried it?" 

"It is not for a house-elf to meddle with time, sir." 

"Then how do you know?" 

"A wizard told me sir. A very great wizard, sir. One to be trusted. He gave me his word, sir. Does Harry Potter wish to test it on Dobby, sir?" 

"No. It's up to me to risk it. I'll just go back one hour then wait. I'll need to have a word with you later though so please hang about - it's very important. Better stand well over there behind me just in case though." 

"Yes, sir. Harry Potter is very good to think of Dobby, sir. Dobby will go over there then Dobby will hang about immediately when Harry Potter has gone." 

Harry placed the chain of the Time-Turner around his neck and turned it backwards one turn. 

"Nothing's happened, Dobby. Does it need to be switched on first? I don't think it's working properly. Probably why the damn thing was thrown in here." 

He took it off and tapped it lightly on the box lid then suddenly became aware of the silence. 

"Dobby?" 

Harry turned around, "Dobby, I said to... Where are you?" 

Harry sighed; if the Time-Turner had worked correctly and he had moved back one hour then he and Dobby hadn't even got here yet. Harry headed off to the kitchen to find him. He tickled the pear in the painting to reveal the kitchen door but then Harry paused to consider how he should manage this. He puzzled about it for some time before entering. He found Dobby preparing vegetables from a large tub. Dobby's eyes lit up when he saw Harry. He abandoned his task, rubbed his dirty hands on an even dirtier apron, and ran to meet him. 

"Harry Potter sir! So good of you to visit Dobby, sir! It's been so long!" 

"Dobby, I need your help." 

"Dobby is always pleased to be of help to Harry Potter, sir." 

"Do you know what this is?" He showed him the Time-Turner. 

"No, sir." 

"It's a Time-Turner. It enables the wearer to move through time." 

"Does Harry Potter wish for Dobby to move through time, sir?" 

""No. I'm going to show you where there is another one. Nobody else must know but you. Understand?" 

"Yes, Dobby is glad to assist, sir." 

Harry took him back to the Room of Forgotten Things. It took him a little longer to find the old crate. He did eventually but when he opened the old box he was shocked that he could not find the Time-Turner within it. He scrabbled through all the old jewellery then scratched his head and murmured to himself, "I don't understand. It was here when I came before - I mean later - so it must have been here before then - which is now..." He gave up trying to figure it out and decided he would have to put the one he had in the box for now then somehow retrieve it later. 

"Will you remember where this is, Dobby?" asked Harry, as he carefully closed the lid and concealed the device within the box. 

"Dobby will sir. Might Dobby ask, is it broken, sir?" 

"No, why... Ah! It works perfectly Dobby. I give you my word. Will you remember that?" 

"Dobby will remember Harry Potter's word, sir, of course, sir." 

"Good. Now I want you to go back to the kitchen and get a sack exactly like this one here." Harry pointed to the sack which was stood against the crate. It was full and bulged lumpily - almost bursting with its contents which were constrained only by the thick green string tied around its neck. 

"Then I want you to fill it with as many different sorts of food that you can think of." 

"Food sir? What sort of food? Is this for Harry Potter, sir?" 

"Yes, every sort of thing you can think of. One of each. One apple, One potato, One sausage. As many as you can get in one sack, got it?" 

"Dobby understands, sir. May Dobby ask why, sir?" 

"No." 

"Very good, sir." 

"Then I want you to take the sack and go to the corner of the corridor leading to the kitchen and wait for me there. When I ask you if you know where I can find a Time-Turner I want you to tell me and show me this box, OK?" 

"But Harry Potter already knows, sir." 

"Yes, but I want you to pretend that I don't. As if my memory has been Obliviated, OK?" 

"Dobby might be able to get help to restore Harry Potter's memory, sir." 

"No. I don't want you to." 

"As Harry Potter wishes, sir." 

"Oh! one more thing. I nearly forgot. The sack will be heavy so your arms will get tired. I want you to put it down and leave it right here." Harry kicked lightly sideways at the sack to affirm its place. 

"Dobby's arms will not get tired with just a sack, sir. Dobby knows how to move one little sack, sir. Dobby can move a hundred sacks if he wishes!" Dobby seemed affronted as if the idea of elf-magic getting tired was ridiculous. 

"Oh! In that case I want you to pretend. Can you do that? Ask me if you can put down the sack because your arms are tired and so you can open this box. OK?" 

"Dobby could open the box for Harry Potter now if Harry Potter wishes it. Then Dobby need not put down the sack." 

Harry sighed. He looked down at the house-elf. The elf looked up at Harry, his ridiculously floppy ears waggling and his huge, bulging eyes smiling and over-eager. It was hard to stay annoyed at the innocent little elf. It would be dreadful if Dobby knew the horrors and pain of Harry's world and good to think that Dobby was excluded from those realities now that he was free and that he'd always be safe in his kitchen. 

"No, Dobby, I want you to put down the sack. I want you to say your arms are tired and ask if you can put down the sack. Got it?" 

"Dobby will do as Harry Potter wishes of course, sir." 

"Finally, once you see me disappear then you can go back to your duties. Even if I tell you to hang about - just ignore that and go. OK?" 

"Dobby doesn't understand, sir. If the great Harry Potter tells Dobby to hang about, sir then Dobby will feel obliged to hang about." 

"Dobby, do you know what 'hang about' means?" 

"No sir, Dobby does not know." 

"OK, it means you can go, OK?" 

"Dobby thanks Harry Potter, sir." 

"OK, you can go now, Dobby." 

"Harry Potter wishes Dobby to hang about?" 

"No - I mean, yes... I think." 

"But Harry Potter has not yet disappeared, sir." protested the elf. 

"No, that's later when you come back again to show me where the box is. Right now you can go and get a sack exactly like mine here, fill it up, and wait for me on the corner, OK?" 

"What if Dobby cannot find a sack quite like that one, sir?" 

"You will, Dobby, don't worry. I have complete confidence in you." 

"Dobby thanks Harry Potter, sir but Dobby is sure the great Hogwarts' kitchens have only white string and black string, sir - if that is alright, sir?" 

"Are you sure, Dobby?" asked Harry with a puzzled look on his face. 

"Dobby is certain sir." 

Harry's face suddenly lightened and he began to untie the sack. "Here, you can have my string, Dobby." 

"Harry Potter is giving Dobby his own string?" The house-elf's eyes filled with tears. "Harry Potter is too kind, sir. Dobby will treasure this string, sir." 

"No, Dobby. I'd like you to tie your sack with it, understood?" 

"Of course, sir." 

Harry waited for the elf to leave the room then he picked up the open sack carefully and walked with it further along into a dark shadow behind a pillar. He placed the sack down behind the pillar and sat down on it thinking hard while he waited. 

He was almost dozing off when he suddenly had the startling thought that he no longer had the Time-Turner and if the earlier Harry took it then he would never get it again. He dashed back to the box, took it out and hurried back to the pillar just as he heard footsteps returning. Harry squeezed back fully behind the pillar so he could not be seen. He listened intently but he could not hear anything. He knew he ought to be hearing voices but there was only silence. After a few seconds he had a horrifying realization: there was now no Time-Turner in the box for Dobby to reveal to him in the first place! He had to tell them. He hesitated then peered cautiously around the pillar but there was no one there. 

He was just wondering what to do when he heard footsteps again so he decided he had better just show himself and explain. He walked out from the pillar then stopped to think. Perhaps he ought not to reveal himself to his earlier self; Hermione had warned him about that over a year ago. He slipped back behind the pillar but he was almost sure he had been seen. He sat back down on the sack and wondered what on earth he would do when they found the Time-Turner missing. He could faintly hear them talking. Any moment now he expected to hear raised voices when they found the device was gone and Harry had no idea what he would do about it. 

After a little while he heard them leaving. Harry jumped to his feet and came out from behind the pillar. All he could see was Dobby walking back to the exit. 

"Dobby?" he called. 

Dobby stopped and turned. He waved some green string enthusiastically when he saw Harry. "Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is just hanging about, sir as instructed, sir. Dobby is hanging about back to the kitchen, sir - to get a sack for Harry Potter, sir." 

"Dobby... Did you just show me the Time-Turner?" Harry fumbled in his pocket. He could feel the Time-Turner there. 

"Yes, sir. Might Dobby say, sir, that it worked wonderfully, sir, just as Harry Potter gave his word that it would," then he added hastily "- not that there was ever any doubt, sir. Oh that was an awful thing to say..." He managed to kick himself hard on the back of his other leg without Harry noticing. That would have to do for now. 

"Thank you, Dobby," said Harry. 

"Might Dobby continue to hang about now, sir?" 

"What? No... Yes... yes, of course." 

"Very good, sir." Dobby turned and walked away towards the exit door. Harry stared after him for quite a while. For some reason, the elf was thrashing himself with the string as he walked away. Harry shook his head. He had somehow made a complete mess of everything but he didn't know how. He took out the Time-Turner and looked at it. Of course! All he had to do was go back twenty minutes and put it in the box! Then he remembered he needed it; so far he had only used it to test it. It would have to wait. He could not worry about that now. He had the Time-Turner and his sack of provisions which were all he wanted; perhaps he could fix things later. 

Once he was sure Dobby had left he picked up the sack, walked all the way back out out of the room and stood in the corridor thinking hard again of what he really needed. After a while he walked back and forth three times with that thought in mind then re-entered the room. The Forgotten Things were all gone; instead he was in a small room with a table and chair and a bed. On the table was a little book and some green string. Harry put down the sack, sat down, and began to read the book very, very carefully. Finally, he put the chain of the Time-Turner back around his neck, tied the neck of the sack with the green string, picked it up against his chest and lifted the chain over it so it enwrapped both him and the sack. He pulled out his wand, went and laid down on the bed on his back with the sack in his arms laying on his chest and pointed his wand at the Time-Turner. Softly he chanted the charm spell he had learned from the book and the Time-Turner began to spin slowly backwards 8,760 times. After a while he fell asleep. 

He dreamt of Voldemort but it was just his head on Dudley Dursley's body; a larger, expanded Voldemort head - larger than life. They were in Harry's old school playground. The Voldemort Dursley pushed Harry about to show him who's boss and Harry was too weak and helpless to stop the humiliation. All the other kids were Death Eaters standing around laughing at him and Voldemort pushed Harry again. He staggered but managed to hold his feet. No matter where he went, Voldemort followed him for no other reason than to push him about. Why wouldn't he just leave him alone? The Death Eaters all laughed as if they could hear his thoughts. Voldemort grew even bigger and pushed him again. The further he was pushed the larger that Voldemort grew until he was so large he pushed Harry over. But even then he would not stop pushing Harry - even now he was down. He would never stop. He kept pressing him down harder and harder, pinning him flat on the ground and no matter how much Harry tried he could not get back up. 

When he awoke he struggled in a panic with the weight of the sack for a while then pushed it off him onto the floor. He was pouring with sweat but relieved to realize it had been just a normal nightmare and his scar was not hurting at all. Of course! If he had truly moved back one year then Voldemort was not yet re-embodied! He looked down; the Time-Turner had stopped spinning. He removed it, slipped it into his pocket and looked at his watch. He could see that he had slept for over two hours but he realized he had no way of checking the date here so he went out of the room. 

Harry went out and headed to the Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady would not accept his password no matter how much he insisted. 

"Can't you-" 

"No!" 

"Just this once?" 

"No password, no entrance," she said haughtily. 

Eventually he realized the Gryffindor password he needed was last year's password but he could not remember what it had been that long ago. He had a sudden thought and wrote down the latest password on a piece of paper and put it in his carry bag. Then he took it out again and thought a bit more. He wrote something more on the paper then put it back in the carry bag. 

After a while he thought of a way to determine the date. He went back to the Room of Requirement, picked up his sack and went back outside again. He stood thinking. He thought very long and carefully. Then he thought very long and carefully again to make sure he had not overlooked anything. After a long, long time he re-entered the room and stared with amazement at what he saw.

  


—oOo— 

  
  
  
  
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	2. Room to Breathe

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**Chapter 2**

**Room to Breathe**

  


  
  
  


**Settling in**

When Harry again entered the Room of Requirement he left behind the grey corridors of Hogwarts in autumn and discovered instead a vast domed arena whose walls and ceiling displayed as springtime skies. This generous stage had been reforged as varied terrain: some challenging; some easy. Harry nodded and smiled at the scattered stone slabs on the slanted landscape; a few were daunting but all looked climbable. They dominated the coarse slag and rocky scree that was recklessly spilt around them but lower slopes were softened by thick turf and rounded hollows. These depressions, scooped out in different shapes and of varied extent, sheltered tall grasses and high bushy shrubs to provide good ground cover. There was a gentle hum of insects that were being drawn to a mix of colourful blossoms and the feathery breeze whispered amongst their stems and foliage. The Room was an unashamed chocolate-box artist. 

Far ahead of Harry was an inviting leafy wood and as he advanced nearer he could see through the trees several clearings in some of which were one or two small buildings: an intriguing low tower; a half-built stone lodge; a narrow farmhouse with a ruined barn; and a cottage so obviously picture book that Harry laughed. Either the magical life that was the Room of Requirement had a sense of humour or it felt Harry needed to lighten up if he was to train well. And he did. 

"Wahoo!" he shouted to the sky as he ran forward. 

Exhilarated by the sense of freedom, Harry almost leapt the rest of the way to the trees. He felt free both physically and magically, and free from time. He was in a way, outside of time. Nobody could touch him here. 

When he reached the edge of the wood he stopped and peered into the dappled shadows. Close by the distant cottage, a pretty brook encouraged a rich growth of olive-green rushes to thrust themselves up above the bluebells and primroses and other small flowers that brushed the landscape with their colour. Harry breathed in the scent. It was familiar; he liked it. It reminded him of a forgotten day when, as a hungry infant, the Dursleys had tried to lose him at a holiday resort. A pretty lady in a summer frock with her gentle grandfather re-introduced him to kindness. They'd led him through a little park, blessed with fragrance, to enjoy a generous lunch and to await his aunt's reluctant claim several hours later. It was as if the Room felt he needed to be in the best frame of mind possible if he was to learn. 

Harry couldn't stop grinning to himself and spoke aloud, "Finally - I can plan my life myself - not be manipulated and used without my knowing what's going on!" 

It seemed to Harry that the Room knew him better and cared for him more than his friends did - or at least, knew his needs better. He felt mean as that thought stole through his mind but he quickly supressed the rogue feeling. He had suffered enough; all he wanted now was to put the injustices behind him. 

He could see between the beckoning trees several dark figures but they were not moving so Harry guessed they were training dummies. He wondered what else awaited him. 

One last thing he did before entering the wooded area. He turned around. Looking back to where he had entered the Room, he could see a solid metal gate set in a long stone wall that curved away out of sight. Funny to think that gate led back to Hogwarts. Harry memorised its position then smiled, turned, and strolled into the wood. He was whistling. 

He passed several of the figures as he picked his way through the trees: crude, painted, life-size mannequins of wood and metal, stiff-legged with arms splayed out in crucifix fashion. Silently they stood like sentinels or lay discarded on the bark litter seemingly at random amongst the trees. Most of them wore Death Eater face masks but he found two that had no masks - their faces were of mahogany - featureless and smooth. He looked closely for a while but could see no obvious way to activate them. He was thinking like a Muggle. 

Harry found his way to the farmhouse and went inside. It was empty of all but the barest of furniture and he wondered how long it might take him to get it comfortably habitable. He doubted the Room intended for him to live here. He gazed out through a dirty window. He could just see a glimpse of the white painted cottage through the trees. Somehow he had known all along that he would end up there. _Cottage it is, then!_

Harry stood before the low stone wall that separated the cottage's garden from its rough surroundings. On his left he could hear the stream adding its gentle gurgling sounds to that of the birds and insects. To his right was the garden gate displaying a name written on a slice of yellow sycamore. It was warmly illuminated by the sun and proudly boasted, 'First Choice'. 

He walked unchallenged through the unlocked front door into the wide entrance hall of the cottage. He needed to confirm the date and there on the wall the Room had provided a large picture calendar with a holiday image of sea and sands. A party of young people were throwing a beach ball monotonously back and forth around their circle. A sun-tanned blonde girl left them to come and blow a kiss at Harry. She seemed happy enough. He waved back and she sang out the date to the melody of an unfamiliar tune. It was still the first day of September but it was 1994 - exactly one year before he had used the Time-Turner. He paused to think. Professor Dumbledore might just be announcing the Triwizard Tournament in the Great Hall about now. 

He went through to the kitchen. Everything he would need was there: cooker, sink, table, cupboards. There was a long empty shelf along one wall which might serve to conveniently display the single items of food. 

On the kitchen table was an old grey book whose covers looked badly worn. Harry rested the sack on a chair and untied its string. Inside was all the food he had asked for, one of each kind. He levitated them across to the shelf in a neat row: potato, loaf, orange juice, milk, tea, all jostling one another for their position on the ledge. He was annoyed to see that his only loaf was slightly squashed as if some idiot had kicked it but he restored it easily enough with a mending charm and everything else seemed alright. Food was one of the few things the Room could not produce and he did not want to be without the basics like breakfast toast and tea. The loaf was fresh and smelt delicious. He looked at the tattered book lying on the table. He had told the Room he needed it so he knew what to expect within its pages. He picked it up and read carefully. 

Harry drew out his wand and went over to the shelf. He pointed it at the first item of food and carefully chanted slowly and repeatedly as he walked along the row, "Temporalis Immobulus" The only effect he could detect was that all the pleasant aromas were gone and everything he prodded seemed hard, unyielding. He looked down at the book in his left hand and turned a page. He restored an onion with a quick "Temporalis Mobulus" and it looked and smelt alright so he time-preserved the onion again and had to trust that everything was in order. Magic could not create food but it could duplicate it so he now had as much as he needed. 

Having satisfied himself that he had both shelter and supplies for his stay, Harry relaxed for most of the rest of the day. He explored a little to familiarize himself with what was where. The house was rather bigger inside than out with an open stairway and various doors off the entrance hall. In one room he found exercise and leisure equipment and through another doorway he could see a good-sized plunge pool. As he came back through the hall he called out to the calendar girl. 

"Excuse me - where's the bathroom?" 

"Oh you silly! - that was it," the girl laughed and giggled. She did a couple of cartwheels across the sand then seeing she had Harry's attention she came forward again. 

"What's your name?" she called. 

"Harry. And you are?" 

"Marianne," she smiled coyly. "Blow me a kiss and I'll sing you the date!" 

"Erm... but you've already told me the date," said Harry. 

The girl began to pout. From the way she swelled out her bikini, Harry guessed she was about eighteen but she was acting as childishly as a six-year old. Her head hung down, half-obscuring her face with thick golden curls and she began to suck her thumb. Was she crying? 

"OK, Fine! Here..." As soon as Harry saw one blue eye peeking at him he blew her a kiss. 

She jumped up and down with delight and sang him the date again - this time to another, slower melody. Everything here was a caricature of real life thought Harry - the scenery, the cottage, the pinup calendar with the dumb blonde. Did the Room have such a limited notion of a young man's needs or was it having fun with him? Harry hoped the latter and while the girl was distracted with her singing he took the opportunity to slip outside and look at the garden more closely. 

There were ample beds of flowers and shrubs of course but no vegetable or salad garden. It seemed everything else was in season but it was all for show - to decorate the environment and please the senses. There was a deckchair and a rope swing hanging from a tree - but it wasn't a fruit tree. 

He toured around the surrounding countryside a little more and decided the other buildings were mostly empty shells for training practice. Further afield he thought he could see a lake. As he began to appreciate the size of the place he wished he had brought his Firebolt. He wondered if there might be one amongst the leisure equipment in the exercise room. 

Harry got plenty of exercise that day just walking about and he decided to have an early night and make a fresh start in the morning; he was weary. 

As Harry lay in bed that night he tried to anticipate all the things that might go wrong. He knew his fourteen-year-old self would right now be in the Gryffindor common room or dormitory. He determined he would not be going anywhere near his earlier self or anywhere else outside of the Room of Requirement for the next year if he could help it. 

He thought about Cedric Diggory. It was strange to think that he was alive now. Suppose Harry left his earlier self a message somewhere warning himself to take the Triwizard cup and not let Cedric take it. Why take it at all, himself? If he did, could he stop Cedric taking it? Could he destroy it? Doubtful. Harry sighed and decided he could not second-guess time and best to let things play out as they had before. He remembered that the year before they had only saved Sirius after the day's events had already unfolded and they never had seen Buckbeak executed. They had not actually changed the known past at all but only the future _after_ the moment they had gone back in time. 

Harry rolled over in bed and tried to get to sleep but he could not help thinking about how it would all work out. Next summer, he must remember to exit this Room before his fourteen-year-old self entered or there would be conflict. He must leave a sign that it was safe to enter. He could write something on the wall outside but that might be noticed. He decided to mark a portrait or perhaps twist a statuette. 

Harry immediately remembered the turned tapestry he had seen earlier that day in the future. So that must mean he had successfully completed this year. At least he was still alive next year, that was something. But turning the tapestry would be a waste of time anyway because he had not known what it meant earlier - that is, in the future. Harry's head hurt just trying to think about it. He resolved at the end of the year he would do exactly the same to play safe. At some time while he was fretting over this he fell asleep. 

  


**Training**

When Harry awoke the next morning he used the Geminio spell to duplicate the orange juice, restored it, smelled and tasted it. It was delicious. He did the same with several rashers of bacon, an egg, the loaf, and other items. He charmed them to cook themselves while he stood sipping his drink and gazing out of the window. It would be a cloudless, warm, sunny day he knew. 

"Morning Marianne!" he called as he passed through the entrance hall. He could just see the calender girl raise her sleepy head from the sand then it fell again while she was still trying to faintly sing the date. Clearly she was not an early riser. 

Upstairs was another room opposite his bedroom that he had only glanced into yesterday. It was a sizeable study with extensive shelves of books and a desk he could work at. On one side were ledges supporting various equipment and tools. He was resolved to spend some time every day learning new magic that might be of service to him. That would leave him free for most of the day to train and practice. He began with a large training manual designed for the Aurors and for their equipment. 

Harry was eager to get started so he spent no more than an hour browsing through the hefty instructions to get the basics then set off outside. He walked across and out of the clearing in which his cottage was situated wondering where to begin. He crouched low behind a tree, chanted the spells that began the Auror training session then waited apprehensively. After a few seconds the sky clouded over and the woodland began to darken considerably. He felt a growing chill as he spotted a shadowy, dark-robed figure searching through the trees to his right. It looked and moved like a real man and not at all like the static figurines he had seen yesterday. When it turned slowly in his direction, Harry could clearly see the Death Eater mask even in the gloomy light. 

Harry cast a distraction spell beyond the slowly walking man and as the figure turned its head away from him, Harry sent a Jelly-Legs curse followed immediately with a disrupting spell to the ground ahead of the figure. He had the satisfaction of watching his adversary tumbling forward with a loud cry but his elation lasted only for a few moments. 

"It's Potter! We've found Potter!" The cry came from elsewhere. 

The tree beside Harry cracked loudly and tore unnaturally down towards him. He flung himself backward but felt an agonizing pain in his right leg which had become pinned down by the tree. Looking sideways over the log, Harry saw two more figures, definitely Death Eaters, running towards him, screaming curses. Only the tree trunk protected him from one deadly spell; another went wide. 

Harry conjured up a shield charm, levitated the log and hurled it at the two approaching enemy then tried to stand. He yelled in pain and fell back again, barely able to sit. This was far too real. His leg really hurt. He was almost fainting with pain when through the haze he saw one of the Death Eaters still closing in and hurling a heavy dark curse towards him. Harry doubled the shield charm which just managed to block the curse before the shield's magic collapsed leaving Harry unprotected. 

Harry instinctively aimed his wand roughly in the right direction and cried "Expelliarmus!" but the Death Eater was faster and Harry felt his wand plucked from his grasp. The Death Eater stood gloating over him, pointing his wand at close quarters, and demanding his surrender. 

"Give it up, Potter - you're mine!" 

"Erm... Excuse me, how do I terminate the--" 

"Crucio!" 

Harry screamed in pain but the Death Eater did not persist with the torture curse. 

"Surrender to the Dark Lord, Potter, or it will be the worse for you!" 

Harry knew he had nothing left. He yielded and the training spell reset itself. He lay back on the ground feeling weak. 

The Room of Requirement quickly became warm and sunny again, the simulated leg pain eased quickly away and the imaginary Death Eaters became immobile dummies once more. Harry stood up. His leg was still a little sore and stiff but he could walk. He retrieved his wand from the nearby dummy, kicked the wooden figure over backwards in annoyance, smiled grimly to himself and began walking to the stream for a drink and to ponder what he had done wrong. But there was someone waiting for him around the next tree. 

"That was pathetic, Potter!" It was Mad-eye Moody. 

Harry almost jumped out of his skin but he had his wand out ready to fight. Mad-eye leaned forward on his staff. "Have you got tunnel-vision? Always check your back - and your sides - and above and below. And why didn't you use your surroundings to better advantage? There was plenty of cover and what about the Disillusionment spell?" 

"I didn't expect--" 

"Didn't expect? Do you think the Death Eaters will only throw at you what you expect? Expect the unexpected, lad!" Mad-eye paused, eyeing Harry carefully; his magical eye was rolling in all directions wildly for a few seconds then came back in line with his good eye to rest on Harry, waiting for him to speak. 

Harry studied Moody in return for a few seconds. "So how come... You're that mannikin aren't you? One of those I saw yesterday?" 

"Why you asking? You requested me." 

"Did not. What do you mean?" Harry slowly lowered his wand. Clearly this was part of the training. 

Mad-eye's wand came up and hit Harry with a sharp stinger. Harry yelped. 

"What the hell you do that for?" 

"You just said you did not request me so you don't even know what I am but you're lowering your wand! Wake up lad or you'll be dead before you even complete the basics!" 

Harry frowned. "Is that possible?" 

Mad-eye shook his head but not in answer to Harry's question. "You've not even read the manual have you." 

"Yes... I've been through it..." 

"Been through it? Flipped the pages did you? What about the trainer selection page? Who did you select?" 

"I... There was..." 

"I'm the default trainer. I'm the badass you get if you don't choose." 

"The hell with you! Why am I standing here listening to a bloody mannikin!" Harry stalked off and shouted back over his shoulder, "I'll change you for a less irritating model! How'd you like that Moody!" 

"Can't. You can't, Potter. The training sequence has begun. ...and it's 'Sir' to you." 

Harry stopped in his tracks. "You're joking aren't you! The Room can't create a real person. You seriously think I'm going to address a wooden puppet as 'Sir?' Not on your life - Oh sorry, you haven't got a life have you - you're really just all dumb splinters and a big mouth made to look real." Harry turned and started walking away again. 

"Think you're funny don't you, Potter." Mad-eye had a malicious grin on his face as if he were enjoying himself. "Tell me, how much have you invested in this training? I mean, how much of yourself? How badly do you want it? How badly do you want to survive You-Know-Who?" 

Harry stopped again but did not turn back to Moody. 

Mad-eye continued, "Do we go forward? ... Or do you keep throwing tantrums like your dumb pinup bimbo?" 

Harry whirled around. "She's not! - Don't say... Have you been spying on me?" 

Mad-eye sighed. "You really don't have a clue do you? This is all one magical life - this Room I mean. It's what you require. It's what you need or it would not be here. Surely you can trust what you absolutely need to be the right thing, the best thing, for you?" 

Harry stared and thought deeply for some time while Mad-eye waited then he said, "Maybe..." 

"That's 'Maybe - Sir' I think you meant to say." 

"Fine! Have it your way then! I'll--" 

"It's not MY way! It's YOUR way you bloody fool! It's what YOU need not me. It's what you summoned up with all your heart and soul when you addressed the Room." 

"I definitely didn't ask for you!" 

"'Need,' Potter, not 'ask.'" 

"I definitely don't NEED you... nagging me! You only exist because I flipped the page without knowing! You don't even--" 

"But you DID flip the page didn't you? It was what YOU did wasn't it? No matter how painful, everything happens here because you need it - it customises itself to you and you alone. The Room knew you needed ME so it made me the default knowing you would be too arrogant to read the instructions properly." 

Harry remained sullenly silent. This was not going at all the way he had hoped. He had come back in time and into the Room to get away from being controlled. 

Moody continued, "Do you know what you ought to be asking yourself right now?" 

"What?" snapped Harry. 

"What the other maskless dummy is doing," said Mad-eye quietly. 

Harry dived for the soft dirt floor and twisted and turned with his wand up high, searching in all directions. 

"Good. Good, Potter. Now we're getting somewhere." 

The form that was Mad-eye swirled its details into a blur and somehow became just a sightless wooden dummy once again. The training session was over. 

Harry stood for a minute or more looking around then his shoulders sagged and he walked back to the cottage. But he didn't lower his wand all the way. 

  


**—oOo—**

Moody turned up earlier the next day right in the middle of Harry's practice. Harry had tracked one of the enemy and was lying under a thick bush waiting for the Death Eater to show herself. He felt sure she was behind one of three stone slabs spaced out across a big scrubby dirt patch next to a meadow that was fairly open short grass. She couldn't have escaped without him seeing her but he wasn't sure which block she was behind. The biggest stone was less than six foot high but she was short enough to comfortably stand behind any one of them without being seen. He determined to be patient and wait her out. He glanced left and right and checked behind himself again and again but otherwise his gaze was fixed on the stones in case she ran across the gaps between them. Suddenly, Moody was standing right there in the open. 

"Better, Potter, much better - but you're moving the bush. That's a dead giveaway." 

Harry, startled, jerked his head up and whispered back, "Only because you spooked me! Keep your voice down! And get down..." Then he added, sarcastically, "--Sir!" 

"They won't take any notice of me, Potter," said Moody, one eye fixed rigidly on Harry. "It's the other one they take notice of. Oh yes, they'll take notice of her alright." 

"Who? Who'd you mean?" 

"You'll find out soon enough." He disappeared without warning. 

Harry turned his attention back to the three stone blocks. He considered whether he had the power to lift them - to reveal the person hidden behind. It was worth a try. 

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry maintained all his magical focus on the three blocks. This was much harder than the log he had despatched yesterday. Each block was many times the weight and there were three. After a few seconds he thought he saw one of them tremble. He held firm. Now there was no doubt - all three were moving! He felt a great surge of energy and pride in his accomplishment as all the big rock slabs raised up several inches from the ground, scattering stones and tearing up roots. Now they were on the move - but Harry was puzzled; they seemed to be heading the wrong way. 

In a flash, Harry realised his mistake; he turned and fled as the huge slabs hurtled towards him but he could not outrun them. The first slammed into his back as another thumped into the ground ahead of him. The last thing he remembered was feeling like ketchup being squeezed out of a huge plastic bottle with the aid of a giant's boot. 

"Never heard of the Ascendio charm, Potter?" It was Mad-eye looking down at him. "Or how about bringing a broomstick next time?" 

"Oh, how are you, Harry? Are you hurt?" said Harry. "I'm fine thank you now my intestines have been pushed back inside - are you going to nag me after every training session? - Mr. Moody, Sir!" 

"I'm teaching you is what I'm doing - and you can't experience extreme or mortal injuries - the enchantment blanks you out." 

"Pity it doesn't blank out my imagination just before it happens though," grumbled Harry as he got to his feet. 

"Seriously, Potter, you have to learn to think fast - don't experiment with levitating huge blocks during combat - make sure you know you can do it first." 

"Then what would you have suggested? - if you'd been there when I needed you that is?" Harry paused, thinking. 

"I AM here when you need me." snapped Moody. 

"How come you're here at all? If you're part of the training session I mean? The session is over." 

"Every session has a debriefing session even if it's not used, Potter. - Chapter Eighteen, Page 764 of the manual - you know, the one you haven't read." 

"So instead of teaching me so I know what to do you prefer to not teach me then mock me after I get it wrong, is that it? How'm I supposed to learn then?" 

"Learn by your mistakes, Potter - not by being told what to do as you go along. Any fool can do that - and any fool can forget it ten minutes later. You need to draw on your resources; your own imagination - then when you fail I'll tell you why and teach you other possibilities." 

"Then teach me!" Harry snapped back. 

"You couldn't see your target to use a direct spell so levitating something was not a bad idea. In that situation you might have lifted a smaller rock over the top and blasted it - if nothing else it would either drive out the Death Eater or reveal which stone she was behind when she responded to the blast. Another thing you could have tried is simply to retreat without waiting until you were driven away. No shame in that. Creep silently away backwards and live to fight another minute, another hour." 

Harry nodded reluctantly and looked at his watch. "I only lasted fifteen minutes that time. How many... I can do more than one session a day, right?" 

"As much as you want - as much as you can stand." 

"Right, let's get on with it then," said Harry. Moody smiled. 

  


**The Smirking Witch**

Over the next week, Harry spent more and more time training until it filled most of the day then he studied in the evenings. He worked more stealthily, more conservatively - saving his best efforts for when he had a clear shot and not taking on more than he knew he could handle unless he had no choice. It was four days later when he had no choice but to deal with more than he wanted. 

Harry lay on the top of a rocky slope. He was using omnioculars and had a good view of the wild, open area before him and the hamlet at the far end - just four small stone houses abandoned on a dirt track. Death Eaters had been using them earlier as their base. He had good cover around and behind him so he knew he could retreat safely if necessary. Three Death Eaters were searching through the shrubs and bushes far down the slope below him and he knew there was at least one more somewhere near the houses or inside one of them. There were far too many to take on together and the three below were keeping good visual contact with each other so he couldn't make a stealthy attack on one of them without being seen by the other two. 

Harry decided to start with the one in the house. He had a broomstick from the cottage now - not a Firebolt but it would suffice. He crept back to it and used it to silently fly low in a wide curve - keeping behind the cover of tall shrubs and the few trees that were in the area. 

When he got nearer he stashed his broom behind a low stone wall then crawled along to where the wall met the track that ran by the houses. There was nobody in sight but now he was this close it was obvious there was no cover immediately around the houses - no doubt that was why the Death Eaters had chosen them as their headquarters in this session. 

Harry never brought his invisibility cloak with him in training - he wanted to learn and the cloak made stealth too easy. Instead, he looked up at the dark grey clouds. He decided it was not going to rain in the next half an hour and cause sparkly splashes on a disillusionment spell so he cast the spell on himself and crept near-invisibly forward. 

He was half way to the nearest doorway when a figure emerged from one of the houses further along. It looked like it might be the same Death Eater who had hurled the stone blocks at him the other day. She had her back to him but she had the same build, same black robes. She had stopped and cast an intense blue light up ahead of her to light the track right to the end as if searching for someone. The fool was not only looking the wrong way, she was illuminating herself. She was a sitting duck. 

Harry crept forward to get within range where his spell would be reasonably accurate then pointed his wand. 

"Stupefy!" Harry said firmly. 

Too late, he realised the blue light was masking a shield charm that the witch had cast upon herself and Harry's spell was ineffective. The woman turned slowly. She wore no mask and was smiling confidently. It was Umbridge - the woman who had been at his trial last summer; the new Defence Arts teacher. 

She sent up red sparks which crackled loudly then called loudly "I say! Over here! Mr. Potter's over here!" She was bouncing up and down on her heels with glee. It was a setup. They must have been expecting him and the three Death Eaters had only been moving forward to his slope to tempt him around to the houses. 

Harry dodged and weaved and tried various spells and curses but Umbridge simply stood recasting her shield charm and even had time to counter his Disillusionment spell. She held her ground; she had no need to attack. 

Umbridge was smirking. "You silly, silly, little child! Did you really think you could surprise an experienced adult like myself?" She shook her head slowly and Harry could hear her tutting to herself. "You're not very good at this are you, dear? Not very good at anything really. My charms saw right through your concealment. Perhaps if you ask me really nicely I might teach you so you don't hurt yourself so much?" 

"When hell freezes over, you old bat!" 

Harry started to advance slowly but then hesitated. Umbridge's cocked her head on one side and her eyebrows lifted a notch derisively. "Yes?" 

Curses were coming his way from the other three now. If he turned and fled then Umbridge could easily hit him in the back with another. Harry ran into the nearest doorway. It was a trap. There was no back door, no stairs, no window except the one beside the open doorway. Harry had no choice but to try to shoot it out, one against four. He cursed under his breath. 

"Ahem! Excuse me! I really think you should give up, don't you, dear?" Umbridge was taunting him from outside. 

"Moody - I could use your help right about now!" Harry muttered but without much expectation. He saw a blasting curse headed right towards the doorway so quickly cast his own shield. The blast destroyed what little furniture there was in the room but Harry's shield held. 

"How you going to get out of this one, Potter?" It was Moody. 

"Just tell me!" 

"I just did." 

Harry stared, wide-eyed. He could see more curses heading his way and the Death Eaters were getting more accurate as they drew nearer. He could smell Umbridge's sickly-sweet perfume as she approached the doorway. There was no way he could survive. 

"What part of 'get out' don't you understand, Potter?" said Moody in a tired voice. 

"How? - I don't have..." Harry paused for only a moment. 

"Accio broomstick!" 

When the broomstick burst through the open doorway it had barely stopped moving before Harry had leapt on it and spun back out and up, back-flipping over the roofs of the houses and down to get cover behind them. He was gone before they could get near but he knew that now he had been spotted they would call a dozen more Death Eaters and the situation was hopeless. He could fly well away from the area but he could not win this particular situation. He ended the session and took a break. 

Umbridge outwitted Harry in the next two sessions that day also but in the third he lost patience. He knew one spell that would break her shield and put her down before she could recast it. 

"Avada Kedavra!" 

He saw the green flash but he did not have the satisfaction of seeing it connect. The training session ended itself. 

"No, no, no! Aurors cannot use unforgivables! What are you thinking, Potter?" It was Moody again. 

"I'm not an Auror! I can do whatever--" 

"You're using an Auror training manual. The sessions fail if you use an unforgiveable!" 

"Well why didn't you--" 

"Why didn't I tell you?" Moody sighed. "Still not read the book have you, Potter?" 

"I've read... a bit more..." Harry paused. "How'm I supposed to beat her if all she does is shield herself over and over and call others to attack me?" 

"You can't." 

"What!" 

"You can't beat her. You're not good enough, Potter." 

"Then... Then I'll have to bloody well get good enough won't I... --Sir!" 

Harry stormed off. The Moody trainer watched him go then reverted to its static wooden form. There remained a fading trace of a smile on the otherwise blank surface of its face. 

  


—oOo— 

  
  
  
  
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	3. The Conflict Within

* * *

  


  


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**Chapter 3**

**The Conflict Within**

  


  
  
  


**Effort and Encounters**

"You're dead, Potter! Give it up now!" 

They were Death Eaters, three of them driving him through the woods to the farmhouse clearing - more moving in and nowhere to run. It was a typical pattern of Harry's day. He always found himself overwhelmed by their superior power and experience. 

"Yield, damn you!" barked the masked leader. 

Harry had to find a way if he was to progress. There was one chance: the old barn had a fodder hatch at the back. Harry exploded a thick smoke charm and ran through it but he was caught by a spell cast blindly. 

"Levicorpus!" 

Harry's legs were pulled from under him. He was lifted above the smokescreen and flung upside down high into the air - above the tree tops that surrounded the clearing. Before he could do anything he was disarmed and silenced. 

"Expelliarmus! Silencio!" 

Unable to yield, he spent the next half an hour being humiliated by jeering Death Eaters as they danced him around way above them. When they got bored they simply dropped him to smash into the ground. The training session ended and Harry lay on the ground panting and thoroughly miserable. The practice dummies were as cruel and uncaring as their real counterparts and the Moody trainer was unrelenting in its criticism of Harry's performance. 

"You should never have been there!" Moody stomped up, face dark with annoyance. "The Death Eaters are not stupid. Did you expect them to wonder where you'd disappeared to just because of a bit of smoke!" 

Harry just lay there saying nothing. 

"You listening?" snarled Moody. 

"Yes! Just..." Harry rolled over and groaned. His body ached from head to toe. "So what was I supposed to do?" 

"Surrender then spend the time studying why you got into that position. If you'd just read the damned manual!" Moody's tone softened. "You need to improve, Potter. You need to improve fast." 

Over the next two months, Harry became over-obsessed with enhancing his magical skills - those which would help him combat dark forces. While training, he forced himself to endure every kind of attack with varying degrees of success. He researched duelling tactics, learnt new spells, and practised stealth. He improved his ability with shield charms, deceptions, hexes, disillusionment, even began to grasp wandless and nonverbal spells yet he was never satisfied with what little improvement he could see in himself. Although he was as determined as ever to keep trying, he could not help feeling depressed by his limited progress. 

If Umbridge was involved, he never could defeat her defensive tactics. When he countered her shield, she easily created a new one faster than he could follow up with a curse. Because she did not attack Harry herself, her wand was always free to keep making shields. She could never beat him either unless he made a foolish mistake but she didn't need to - she just waited for the other Death Eaters to do that. And her derision always seemed to ring true in Harry's ears: 

"Oh Mr. Potter! Are you still here? You'll never be any good. You do know that don't you?" 

"You must be very disheartened. There's no improvement at all, is there, Mr. Potter?" 

"Are you sure you should be here at all? You don't seem to have any natural ability for this sort of thing do you?" 

Harry despised her more each day. He had to prove her wrong - to silence her taunts permanently. 

To add to his gloom, the limited scale of Marianne's conversations had by now become really irritating to Harry. There were times when he just needed to talk things over with someone for a few minutes. The Moody trainer was limited to discussing battle tactics but at least that was useful; the calendar girl had nothing meaningful to offer at all except the date. To make matters worse she often distracted him and made demands for his attention when he tried to pass by her. He considered turning the calendar over to face the wall but he wasn't sure how that would affect the girl; it did seem rather cruel. So instead he had begun to creep out the back door and in the evenings would sneak upstairs in the dark. Even then she sometimes noticed and he could hear her squealing and laughing as if she thought Harry was playing a joke - or she would be pretending to cry and coax him nearer if she thought he was avoiding her. 

"I've got a new tune! Come and listen to me sing the date again, Harry!" she pleaded. "Just once, I promise." 

He was getting more and more annoyed with the Room's choice - he had needed only a calendar not a giggly, weepy bubblehead who wanted baby-sitting. All he wished to do was focus on his training and not get sidetracked. 

He did discover new things despite his misgivings. One week he practised charms to help develop his reflexes. The charms were temporary but when training with them, his improved reactions became permanent. Another time he worked with traps, decoys, and diversions - both setting them and detecting them. He managed transfigurations of stones, bushes, and small animals but dare not yet try on himself - not so his enemy - they could conjure up Dementors, graphorns, acromantulas, even basilisks. Although not as dangerous as the real thing they nevertheless had to be fought or avoided while dealing with the Death Eaters themselves. It was tiring work. Only his resolve, his loneliness, and his sense of purpose kept driving him onwards every day. It helped that there was little else to do in the Room - perhaps that was why the calendar girl's dull, babbling nonsense had been provided. Yet he needed advice desperately and there was only one option. 

"Professor Moody, what is the point of--" 

"Oh, it's 'Professor Moody' now is it? What happened to 'Dumb Splinters with a big mouth' then?" Moody scowled. 

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry but--" 

"No use being sorry, Potter. 'Sorry' won't help you survive Voldemort." 

"This is exactly what I mean - Why'd you keep nagging me? And why do I have to put up with that smug toad, Umbridge, having a go at me nearly every day? Why, when I need advice and support do I only get a calendar with the attention span of a hyperactive infant?" 

"I wouldn't know, Potter. You obviously need these things or they wouldn't be here would they? What did you tell the Room when you entered?" 

"None of this! I told it I need to overcome Voldemort and his supporters before they kill me! I need to know how to defend myself; space to practise, instructions, a place to stay, that sort of thing..." 

"Listen to me, Potter. The Room is a magical life but it is nothing whatsoever like you think it is. It doesn't _work out a plan_ like you and I might. It's your NEED to overthrow You-Know-Who that directs the magic. So you must need to be able to cope with Umbridge - not just combat her but be able to think clearly even while she's trying to get you to lose control of yourself. Don't you see?" 

"No! What's it got to do with overthrowing Voldemort!" 

"Why do you need to know, Potter? Isn't it enough to trust the magic? You NEED it. Full stop." 

"So, what about Marianne? What's the point in that? So I can learn to go crazy? I can manage that on my own thank you very much." 

"I admit that seems peculiar. Maybe it thinks you need a pretty girlfriend - raise your self-esteem - or show you how smart you are by comparison!" 

"Fine - I'll marry the calendar then. And you? I don't suppose you know why you have to be like you are either do you?" 

"Oh well, that one's easy. I really am a miserable, hard-driving, nit-picking, bastard." Moody grinned as he faded from view with the words, "No mystery about that..." 

Harry looked around and sighed. He was surrounded by Death Eaters who had crept up with Umbridge while he was distracted. She was standing there smirking with her usual cowardly shining blue shield in place. 

"OK, fine. I yield," he muttered to end the session and stormed off back to the cottage. 

"Sorry? What was that dear? You surrender? Again?" Umbridge gloated. The Death Eaters all laughed. "Why bother coming then? You always surrender in the end." 

  


**—oOo—**

Each evening, Harry was exhausted. Although his serious injuries were only simulated and dissipated after each training session, he was still left with aching limbs, bruises, scratches, and cuts on which he needed to spend time learning potions and healing spells. After his studies it was all he could do to fall into bed and sleep each night. 

He knew he was driving himself too hard. Even in sleep he sometimes had nightmare deaths at the hands of hordes of Death Eaters. He had an especially strange restless dream at the start of December. He dreamt he finally had Umbridge in a bouncing, spinning hex that Fred Weasley had popped in to give him. She was upright but spinning faster and faster with her arms flung out wider and wider and higher and higher so she could not wave her wand properly. A great metal spring under her shoes bounced her up and down and around like a demented toy. 

She was building up momentum. She lost her grip on her wand and it was flung over the housetops. Her black robes shredded away revealing a vivid, luminous-pink cardigan that was intensely fluffy. She looked like she was about to burst. Her eyes were bulging and buttons were popping off her cardigan in all directions; even the fluff was flying off in great pink sprays that floated down around her. He could taste the stuff; great wads of fuzzy lint stuck in his mouth and they were almost choking him. _Ugh! - Umbridge fluff!_

As the speed of the rotation increased still further she started to buzz and hum like a spinning top. Her little bow sailed over Harry's head chased by her snapping teeth that were demanding that the bow return at once or face detention. Just as her cardigan exploded, Moody's voice was thundering 'Unforgiveable! Unforgiveable!" Then there was silence; silence all but for one tiny sound - a sound that was out of place. 

Harry awoke lying face down in the dark, chewing deeply into his pillow. Someone, or something, was in the house. Sitting up in bed, trying to quietly spit out feathers, Harry reached for his glasses and his wand and listened carefully. He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. He crept silently to stand behind his bedroom door and watched anxiously as the door handle slowly turned. 

How could this be? The training session had ended hours ago and how could a real person have gotten in from Hogwarts? He had carefully instructed the Room of Requirement of his need for a room that nobody could enter except himself. He required that he never be disturbed. Nothing could override that - or could it? Was it possible that Dobby could get in using elf-magic? 

The shape that was entering was no elf. Harry could endure the suspense no longer. His shout of "Lumos!" revealed the intruder to be... his godfather. Harry stared in confusion. "Sirius?" 

Sirius Black looked shocked - not only to see Harry here but that he was pointing his wand at him. 

"I surrender!" Sirius laughed but it was a dry laugh and his smile was forced. He looked extremely worried. 

"Sorry... I..." Embarrassed, Harry put his wand away and said, "How on earth did you--?" 

There was a bright purple flash from Sirius' rapid wand movement and Harry felt a powerful shock hit him hard over his entire body. There was a lot of pain and everything faded to black. 

When Harry awoke again, he found himself on the floor of his bedroom. Sirius had gone. The bedroom door was open so he had not imagined it. He wondered if his godfather's long term in Azkaban had finally unhinged him - or did everyone now think Harry had gone over to the dark arts? He crept all around the house searching. There was no sign of his godfather but the front door was ajar - he had fled. 

Harry sat on his bed pondering for a long time whether he should leave the Room to try to explain what he was trying to do here. But why should he! Did they ever bother to explain anything to him? No! they thought it was none of his business - except it was. Voldemort was trying to kill him and that made it his business. Frustrated by his inability to come to any decision, he became more and more angry. Why could he not be left alone even in here! 

"Just leave me alone!" he shouted aloud. Downstairs Marianne began sleepily singing the date then lapsed into silence. 

He threw himself back into his training with even more determination. Why was he not improving? What was he doing wrong? And would Sirius return? 

It was only two evenings later that he resolved the mystery. He had stopped up very late practising a new hex in his exercise room; he had found the space useful for trying out spells. It hadn't been going very well so he went upstairs to check another book and fetch his notes. As he was going into his study he suddenly caught the scent of primroses from the woodland outside. The windows were closed and he had heard nothing - but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Silently he pulled out his wand and turned around on the upper landing, listening carefully. A faint breath of air across his face told him the front door had opened. This time he was ready. If Sirius had returned he would not let him leave without getting some explanation. 

He crept down the stairs again into the dark entrance hall. The only light was in the calendar picture - he could see the moon faintly shining above Marianne's beach. Marianne herself was nowhere to be seen but Harry sensed there was someone real actually in the hall - a shadowy figure looking at him. 

"Mr. Potter! What are you doing here on Christmas eve!" He could see only a faint impression in the darkness but he would know that voice anywhere. It was Professor McGonagall. That was shock enough but Harry was aghast to be informed that Christmas had arrived and by avoiding the calendar he had not even realised it. 

"Please don't point that wand at me unless it is your intention to lose more house points," she said drily, "and do put the lights on." 

"Professor! I'm sorry! I thought..." Harry cast a light with his wand to illuminate the hall. The Deputy Headmistress was glaring at him very sternly. "Professor, how did--" 

McGonagall waved her arm sideways across the gap between them and Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach and his limbs became immobilised. His jacket was cut and soaking with blood. McGonagall's face contorted with a rage that Harry had never seen in her before. She crossed her arm back and forth one more time and Harry cried out as he sank helplessly to the floor watching the heavy drips of his own dark blood falling to the floorboards ahead of him. 

When Harry awoke there was no blood. His clothing was intact. He felt a bruise on the side of his head and he remembered it hitting the cloak stand as he fell. No McGonagall. Nobody. He went across the entrance hall and could see the front door was partly open. Harry sighed and went back to study his Auror training guide more carefully. 

As he read the manual over breakfast he realised that what he had thought was a passive instruction book had magically changed. Pages now showed indications of his progress: which sections he had mastered and those where he should give more attention and practice. He was impressed with the book and with his own increasing power and skill. 

He was astonished to realise that he had not really appreciated the significance of the increasing difficulty of the training. On his first day he recalled just three Death Eaters had quickly defeated him. Now he was evading six or seven for an hour before being defeated - and taking many of them down with him as well as handling much more complex attacks: tracking, dealing with summoned creatures, and protecting himself against curses that were increasingly more severe. The training was pushing him further each time until he failed. The enemy were smarter, faster, and more powerful - but so was he. 

He turned a page. _A good night's sleep has to be earned._ Training sessions could now initiate themselves! He would have to study harder. He would research wards and shields and alerts and anything that might protect his home overnight. And what a night! It was Christmas eve! He looked at his watch. In a few hours it would be light but he was suddenly very tired and decided to get some sleep and take the next day off. 

The next morning, Harry stood in the kitchen regretting he had not asked Dobby to provide wine or butterbeer to celebrate Christmas. He poured himself some orange juice and decided to make friends with Marianne - he needed some company - any company, even hers! He sauntered sheepishly through to the calendar wondering how to make up with her but she was still nowhere to be seen. The beach was completely empty - no doubt everyone was celebrating somewhere and she had abandoned him. Harry sadly raised his glass, "Cheers, Harry - you can't even keep friends with a stupid calendar." He spent Christmas day indulging lonely thoughts and feeling sorry for himself. 

  


**Caring**

A month into the new year, Harry set out on his day's training. It was a cool and overcast morning and Harry shivered a little. He did a few stretches against a tree to warm up and was pleased to find he was not stiff and sore from previous days as he generally had been. He was getting fitter and more hardened by the punishing regime he had imposed on himself. He needed that fitness as he ran north for cover towards a large broken rock formation that reached lengthways to the west. He was not sure what he had sensed but he had detected danger somehow. That same sense told him he would not reach the rocks in time so he dropped as flat as he could behind a low thick-leafed bush and waited. A small acromantula was searching, turning left and right. _A scout_ thought Harry. He knew its typical pattern was to scan back and forth while zig-zagging towards its masters then repeat in a new direction. He cast an unspoken odour shield on himself and watched. The repulsive creature was casting north and south but generally making headway east. Harry turned his head slowly in that direction. He could see nothing but he knew the Death Eaters must be there. 

Once the beast was well past him, Harry crawled off at an angle in the opposite direction intending to circle the large rocks from the other side. Once he was far enough away he ran, skidding and kicking up soft dirt as he did so and almost falling - there would not be much time. Almost too late he saw a small hard rocky patch of ground cutting through the grey stone face and he slowed down to avoid making any sound on the loose stones. Once through the gap, he came back on the north side of the rocks and moved cautiously east again to find out if he could see the Death Eaters. 

When he reached the limit of the rock cover, he lay down against a stone block, waited, watched, and listened. He had a reasonably good all-round view except for the rocks behind him on his right. After a while he could hear faint footsteps - but they were not where he had expected - they were circling round towards the rock formation from the southeast under cover of dense bushes and other foliage. There were two pairs of feet, one cautiously lagging behind, the other slightly more noisy. Harry silently swore at himself. He should have remembered that the acromantula had almost all-round vision and had probably glimpsed him only half-obscured behind the shrub; it must have informed the Death Eaters of Harry's whereabouts. He couldn't see them but he knew their route from the sounds they were making. They were keeping together and that was good; he might be able to get behind them both. He would wait until he could determine which way they turned near the rocks. At that moment the wind picked up strangely, bringing dark storm clouds with it. The Room was throwing something new into the mix. It began to rain. 

A new sound! There was another Death Eater to the northwest and Harry had no cover that side except for a line of trees further away - probably where the Death Eater was concealed. Beyond that and further west was only the Room's boundary wall. He considered hiding himself with a disillusionment spell but he knew the rain would sparkle as it hit the invisibility camouflage and give him away. He had to hope the Death Eater was moving off to the east and would not see him. Harry twisted around and strained his eyes through the rain which had become very heavy and was sizzling off the rocks loudly enough to obscure the sound of most footfalls. The clouds turned ominously black and Harry was soaking wet but at least now it was so dark it would help to hide him. He saw a slight, shadowy figure coming through the trees. _Not furtive. Not taking any care to be quiet. Holding something over his head to keep the rain off. Must be a decoy. Ignore it and take it out later._

He tried to focus his mind on the main threat but instinctively glanced back over his shoulder again. He could at last see the decoy a little more clearly, make out its shape, taller than Umbridge but definitely not moving like a Death Eater, just walking along quickly as if trying to get out of the rain. There was a flash of lightning and Harry recognised with a thrill who it was. It was Hermione! She caught sight of him in the same moment. "Harry?" she called. Her voice was half-lost in a long deep rumble of thunder but there was no doubt it was her. She looked astonished but was half laughing as though relieved to have found him, "What on earth are you doing? We've all been worried sick!" She started to run over towards him. Harry had not seen a real friend for so long he stared as at a great treasure - dumbstruck for several seconds. Then reason took over and he realised she would be in danger. 

Harry tried to whisper a warning, mouthing it so the Death Eaters would not hear, "Hermione! No! Go back!" 

_"Hermione? No! What was he thinking? She's a decoy!_ He could no longer hear the Death Eaters on the other side of the rocks because of the harsh fizzing and rapping of the driven rain on stone and leaf but they must surely have heard Hermione's call. _They must have. But what does it matter? She's just a decoy._ He felt unsure suddenly. He decided to use his wand to close the training session to be sure. _You won't be able to do that in a real situation! Is she real or not?_ He hesitated. 

He saw several spells coming from one side, aimed not at him but at Hermione. She seemed to be fumbling for her wand but a torture curse clipped her right shoulder first, spinning her sideways. She screamed and staggered and as she did so another unknown curse hit her fully. She did not call out for help but was just squirming in pain silently on the ground. She was not a decoy. A decoy would surely have tried to lure Harry out into the open. It really was Hermione - it was his friend and she would not be protected from the training spells as he himself was. To her they would be real and Harry knew he could not get directly to her to help. But eventually she failed to completely stifle her cries. After one heart-rending scream, Harry could stay inactive no longer. 

In a blind rage, Harry roared a terrible battle-cry to the storm. He charged out recklessly to the southeast where he knew the Death Eaters would be - from where he had seen their curses come. Hermione was still screaming; her cries were weakening but Harry had only one focused objective and all else he blanked out. 

Shrieking like a savage, he ran as fast as he could directly towards the enemy. The small acromantula would be no problem but both the Death Eaters would be waiting for him hidden behind a range of scrubby bushes. They were ready but they were not prepared for the furious blasts of fire he despatched towards them. Though soaking up the rain, the woody shrubs practically exploded with the fierce, intense heat and as the Death Eaters, both aflame, were driven out, Harry tripped them with leg-locker curses. He cursed and bound them where they lay, steaming in the downpour. With a shock he finally recognised he had been training too conservatively - he was faster, more powerful and more accurate than he had realised. He turned and ran to Hermione who now lay silent. Her hair was wet-streaked half across her face but he could see her eyes were dead, staring blankly into the distance. Harry sank to his knees beside her. "Hermione..." 

There was a sudden bombardment of curses from beyond the trees. He had no cover and was taken by surprise. The multiple spells caught him, tore at him, flung him away with terrible force. He blacked out. Before he did he had enough time to realise: she was a decoy. It was not Hermione. He had been tricked yet again. 

  


**—oOo—**

Harry stood, grimly surveying the ground where the Hermione decoy had lain writhing. There was no mark, no stain, nothing yet he still felt sick from the shock of seeing her lying there. He turned away resolved to improve, to find a way to detect real from unreal. 

He had suppressed true friendship; he knew that now. Last summer he had felt so alienated. Yet how his heart had lifted, even though it was only for a moment, how delighted he had been to see his best friend again after so long alone. How willing he had been, without thinking, to risk death to help her. In a way, he died for her. 

_What am I doing here? They are my friends. They would not abandon me. There must have been reasons they could not see me, could not even owl me, last summer._ His thoughts became more confused and conflicting, tormenting him with self-doubt. There was only one thing of which he was certain and to which he must cling if he was not to go mad. _I cannot waste my time with friends who are not reliable and don't have any idea what I have to deal with. I MUST survive! I must overcome Voldemort. That is my first priority - not friends. I can't be a friend if I'm dead._

  


**—oOo—**

Although it seemed always to be springtime in the Room, Harry knew that outside, in the grounds of Hogwarts, winter's dark grip would now really be yielding to the brighter seasons. His schoolfriends would eventually depart for the Easter break leaving Hogwarts almost empty. His loneliness was now at times excruciating. He had never felt this lonely even when he was young and locked up in the cupboard under the Dursleys' stairs - he did not then miss what he had never had. Only since he had made his first true friends did he suffer without them. The loss was torture when he dwelt on some of the happy and exciting periods he had spent in the company of his schoolmates. He wondered whether to risk going out to the Gryffindor common room - at least to see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny for a few minutes. The Moody dummy could never be real to him and anyway, was always finding fault. Marianne had eventually showed herself in the calendar again and she and Harry were talking again but he had difficulty paying attention to her silly naivety. What he would give now even to hear Hermione scold him for not doing his homework! Sensible Bliss! _I swear I'll never be angry with her again._ How he missed everyone in the Gryffindor common room. It hurt more to realise they were definitely not missing him though. _They are probably chatting and laughing right now with that other Harry - my earlier self - lucky git!_

Harry wondered if he was starting to go a little mad. Perhaps he really had driven himself too hard or possibly it was the lack of contact with real people. An entire year alone - had it all been too much? He wondered if it was possible to create a new dummy persona to talk to; perhaps a Remus Lupin who could stay in his house and chat. _Then I really will go mad!_ he thought. _Nothing for it. I must persevere. I got myself into this - nobody else. I must make an effort at normality._

A day came soon after when he began to wonder more about the Room itself. He had finished training and was walking back to the cottage. As he walked along, it occurred to him that the Room itself, being a magical life, must have its own intelligence; might have its own self which performed the Death Eaters, Umbridge, Moody, and the calendar girl. None of them was good company but maybe he wasn't good company for them either. He loathed Umbridge - he would prefer to go mad rather than have her as a friend. He glanced around nervously but all was well. He was approaching the garden gate. 

Perhaps Moody might be alright on his day off - except he never had a day off. He puzzled what Moody might do if he ever did have a holiday. What about the calendar girl? Every day seemed to be a day off for her. But was she happy? He sometimes felt rather sorry for her even though he knew it was just the Room really. Did she get bored or lonely while he was out all day? Was the beach life just a facade? Did she sit there pining for his company all day? He had mostly been polite but he felt a twinge of regret for the times he had, perhaps, slighted her - treated her as no more than cardboard. Harry sighed as he approached his front door. 

"Hello Marianne! I'm home!" Harry called as he stepped indoors. 

"Harry! Guess what?" 

"Erm... Is it... I don't know. I give up." 

"No, no - you have to guess!" Marianne was clapping her hands together in delight. 

"I can't Marianne - is it erm... Something - something that's happened?" 

"Yes, yes! You're getting close!" 

"Getting close, eh? Mmm... Something you've seen..." Marianne was shaking her head, "...or done?" 

Marianne leapt for joy. "Yes, yes!" 

"Can you give me a clue?" 

"No, no - you have to guess!" But she was flicking her eyes suggestively towards the beach ball at her feet. She picked it up trying to be casual - looking dramatically away into the distance supposedly not to draw attention to the ball. 

"Did you throw the beach ball... further?" 

Marianne could not contain her secret any longer. "I bounced it the most times than anybody today! One hundred and fifty..." She frowned, thinking hard, then turned to a distant figure along the beach, "Derek! How many was it?" She turned back to Harry. "One hundred and five times!" 

"That's wonderful, Marianne!" said Harry. _Am I really this desperate for conversation?_

"Tell me, Marianne, What do you do? All day I mean, while I'm out?" 

"Well, there's beach ball and swimming... and sunbathing... and..." She was trying to count on her fingers and dropped the beach ball. She ran after it, came back and placed it on the sand again. "There's beach ball and volley ball and we have picnics and... beach ball... did I say swimming?" 

"Mmmm... Yes, I think you did..." 

Perhaps there was a trace of sarcasm in his voice - he had not intended it. Marianne stared at Harry for a few seconds then her eyes began to shine with tears. "You think I'm really silly don't you!" 

Harry could see a definite pout forming and probably a couple of sobs to follow. "No, no - it's just that... Have you ever thought of say... reading a book? Learning something new? Improving yourself?" 

Marianne laughed; like any young child she was quickly distracted from her former dark mood by a shiny new thought. "There are no books on a beach, Harry! This is the beach - look!" She waved her arms expansively as if Harry hadn't noticed she was on a beach. 

"But... Listen, suppose I were to put up a book here for you to read." Harry, caught up in his own idea, dragged a hefty decorative jug along the broad shelf to just below the calendar. "You can see this jug right?" 

Marianne squealed. "That jug could be a book instead!" 

Harry stared at the first sign of intellectual reasoning he had seen in the girl. "That's right! - Hang on! I'll see what I can find for you." 

Harry dashed upstairs to his study and began browsing the bookshelves. There were a lot of popular classics and whodunnits he had read from time to time but he could not imagine Marianne coping with Dickens or Conan Doyle or Christie. Most of the volumes were magical reference and spell books; it was a mini-Hogwarts library. He gazed along the shelves. A splash of pale colour that he had always ignored before caught his eye. They were books for young children he had dismissed months ago - myths and fairy tales and suchlike. He pulled out one called 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' and ran downstairs with it. 

He half-expected Marianne to have forgotten and run off to play beach ball with her pals but she was standing there waiting expectantly for him. She watched with interest as he propped the book up open at the first page against the jug. For a full minute she stared at the book in silence. Harry fidgeted. 

"Erm... Don't take this the wrong way but... Can you actually... I mean, do you know how to--" 

"This is wonderful!" Marianne laid herself down on the sand and wriggled forward as close as she could with her face filling the calendar frame and her eyes wide. Harry could see her eyes slowly moving back and forth, reading the words. 

"Just whistle when you want the page turning," he called back over his shoulder as he crept quietly away towards the kitchen. 

"Oh that's alright - I can use my wand," murmured the girl. 

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around. "You can do magic?" 

"Of course I can silly - I'm a witch! How else can anyone do one hundred and five bounces!" 

"But..." 

"Sshhh... I'm reading!" 

Harry tried not to think where she kept her wand. He went and made his evening meal. 

The next morning he found her fast asleep right in front of a tale about a rabbit. She must have been absorbed in the stories and re-reading them most of the night. He felt a little better about himself but he didn't know why. He determined to dig out some more books for her later. He went off thoughtfully to the first training session of the day. 

But it was the afternoon training session that was most dramatic. He had finally found Umbridge separated from the other Death Eaters in the derelict tower in the wood. She would still be able to cast her defensive shields but she was isolated from the other Death Eaters for once, and Harry, now much better trained, had had a little time to prepare. 

He was certain she did not know he was there because he had approached from the north. There were no windows on that side and a narrow external turret rose up the entire outer wall to way above the tower's battlements, obstructing the view from its wall-walks. He would not be seen. To be even more sure, he had cast disillusionment spells not only upon himself but on his broom and had flown silently up to the parapet and onto the wall-walk before dismounting and creeping down the tightly-spiralling stone stair within the turret. This would be his best opportunity yet. The last few steps turned through an open doorway into a small chamber. The smug witch was sitting there, her back towards Harry. She was quietly sipping tea at a dark dusty table, viewing the colourless, decaying tapestries on the wall. Harry raised his wand. 

A searing pain above his right eye brought him down to his knees and though he bit his lip he could not suppress a loud cry. Umbridge was on to him instantly and, finding him disabled, used an attacking spell. 

"Incarcerous!" 

Umbridge looked both a little shaken to have been taken by surprise and relieved at his incapacity. 

She came over and gloated down at Harry but he could scarcely see her; he was in a haze of suffering and unable to handle his wand to end the session. He tried to speak - to yield but it was his lightning scar that was the cause of his agony and Umbridge tried to add to it. It was fortunate for Harry that she did. Her use of the Cruciatus curse, multiplied his suffering and caused him to pass out. When he awoke it was dusk and all pain had ended. He was drenched in sweat. The tower was empty. 

Harry walked stiffly back to his cottage. There had been no vision of any kind but he felt sure that Voldemort had been the cause of the pain. He had scarcely thought of those dreams for months. 

"Marianne! The date! What date is it?" he called as he entered the house. 

"Harry! This one is fascinating! He's completely isolated from all his friends for years - that's terrible! Does he ever get off the island?" She had progressed to Defoe. 

"The date, Marianne? What date is it?" 

"Oh, sorry. It's the 31st of May." said Marianne distractedly - she was not singing. "Listen, can Man Friday find--" 

"Sorry - gotta go!" Harry ran up to his study to get away - to think. He was vaguely aware that Marianne was not sobbing or wailing like she used to when he snubbed her. He was focused on thinking about last year - this year that he was in now. He had been stricken by a dreadful vision in his Divination class. Had that been at the end of May? He felt sure that it had. But why no vision this time? Perhaps he had simply picked up on the same experience his earlier self had - the pain but not the vision. He banged the flat of his hand on his desk. Was there no escape even in here? He must find a way to defeat the Dark Lord because if he didn't he felt he would be driven mad by these experiences even if Voldemort himself didn't actually kill him. 

As June started, Harry knew there was not much time left and he had to make the most of it. He continued his training with renewed vigour. He increased his efforts; four or five long training sessions a day and study in the evening - trying to keep the loneliness out of his thoughts by filling his mind with tactics, spells, procedures - always striving to improve, always struggling to keep up with the ever-increasing difficulty. 

This period was interrupted by one further bout of terrible pain in his scar towards the end of June - but Harry had been anticipating it. That was when the Triwizard cup portkey had taken him and Cedric Diggory to Little Hangleton Graveyard. When the pain stopped, Harry spent a quiet hour in contemplation - in memory of Cedric's passing. It was almost as if he had died twice. 

  


**Completion**

By the end of the school year, Harry had learnt to partly transfigure himself, apparate, and to conjure and even summon some creatures just as the Death Eaters were doing. Familiar ones like red caps and pixies were fairly easy to produce but not of much use in combat except to distract; tebos were a little better as well as non-magical creatures like big cats and bears. There were also strange new ones he had never heard of - some terrible in attack; some helpful in defending him. 

He had also summoned a few unusual creatures such as Dementors and Luminators. Harry knew that many spells had their counterpart: fire and water, hexing and healing, drawing near and driving away. He found that although Luminators could not drive away Dementors they could help him summon a Patronus and were better than the Cheering charm in that respect. They cleared the mind instead of clouding it; were light instead of dark; warm not cold. Unlike the Dementors which fed on and sapped every good feeling from their victims, the Luminators nurtured positive happy thoughts as well as truth and goodness in those under their protection. However, he soon discovered these white-robed, luminous creatures were difficult to look at directly because the purity of their expressions made one feel rather small and embarrassed about every tiny misdemeanour in one's life. 

Harry gave up on both Dementors and Luminators and considered more earthy creatures. He could summon trolls reasonably well but their dull minds made them unpredictable fighters against experienced wizards and often they got in the way. In contrast, the graphorn could reliably be made to charge at enemies and its resilience to magic posed a threat to them that could not be ignored. This was Harry's favourite summoned creature in training though it did need open space to be effective so he also needed something smaller. 

He focused on wolves because they were fierce, intelligent, and dangerous enough to be taken seriously yet were flexible and small enough to be effective even in a small room. In addition they worked well in packs. On balance, Harry considered all these summoned creatures to be little more than diversions and distractions to delay and occupy the enemy while some more potent curse was used; it would be a very weak wizard who could not deal with a mere wolf or even a graphorn. 

Harry was desolate on the third of July. Even though he had no contact with his schoolfriends he felt even more excluded and remote now they were all leaving Hogwarts for the summer. He checked on Marianne every day but it was not just to get the day of the month - he often brought her new books and he needed to hear a non-hostile voice. He had seen a significant change in the girl since she had begun to read and she seemed, at last, to have real character - an emerging new personal identity. Harry felt a little guilty he had treated her with disdain before. She was now less distracting. He was sure she still desired his company but was now understanding enough not to trouble him. This actually made Harry feel more obliged to companion with her for a few minutes when he could - for her sake, not his. They could exchange a few sensible words and make intelligent eye contact - there was a new understanding between them and she seemed to thrive on it. 

On the day he turned sixteen years of age he examined his Auror manual again. He was very pleased now with the assessment he was reading. It showed him as 'Above average' for the sections he had completed - both in power and diversity. He put that down to the magic he had inherited from his mother and father - and also the fanatical amount of time he had put into his training. No Auror worked for so many hours a day for an entire year entirely on combat skills - they had too many other duties to perform. But Harry was under no illusions about how Moody would react to this news. 

"Are you completely out of your barking mind now then, Potter?" 

"No - the manual affirms it." Harry grinned at Moody's apparent discomfort and held out the book. "See? - 'Above average' - look. You're not going to tell me the Auror Training Manual is wrong are you?" 

"No, Potter - I wrote much of this edition. What's wrong is your interpretation of it - what it actually means." 

Harry felt his ego sinking somewhat. "Fine - Tell me then - what's wrong?" 

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong, Potter - except this is a three-year course you've covered in less than a year. Still not read the manual properly have you?" Moody paused and sighed at Harry's puzzled look. "You would be 'Above average' only if you'd taken three years. As it is... You're bloody outstanding! Can't say I'm surprised though - any son of James and Lily Potter might be expected to do well." 

"But you've given me nothing but criticism all year!" cried Harry in astonishment. He grabbed the book back from Moody and scrabbled through the first few pages to confirm what he could hardly believe. 

"Worked well then didn't it?" growled Moody. "Some need encouragement - others need a good kick up the arse." He started to fade. Harry fancied he saw a wink in Moody's good eye but he wasn't sure. 

With Moody's reassuring accolade, Harry now was confident he had a great basic training to further build upon during the remaining weeks of his confinement. Then he could leave the Room of Requirement and brace himself to endure one last restrictive year at Hogwarts. But this coming year would not be completely wasted; he could still use the Room to train whenever he had a free hour. And at the end of it the underage trace should be removed and he would be free; free to use magic - free to go wherever he wished and continue his training secretly. Harry smiled to himself. He felt strained rather thinly but this was the most hopeful he had ever been since encountering Voldemort. 

  


**Leaving**

Harry carried his bag out into the hall and dumped it near the front door. He sighed as he walked across to the calendar. When he got there he frowned. He had seen many changes in the last few weeks but none so different as this. The beach was gone. Instead he could see the inside of a nicely-furnished, neat drawing room. Marianne got up from a writing desk carrying the book she had been reading and walked over to greet Harry. She was wearing a smart navy blue business suit and a white shirt. Her hair was held up with a white, patterned hairgrip and there was a pencil behind her ear. She seemed a little older or perhaps just more mature. 

As she draw near, she burst into song - and she sang rather joyfully, "Harry! Oh it's the first ... of Sep - tem... ber! - In the Year 95! And I hope you re - mem... ber - That I'm rea - lee alive!" 

"Marianne? What's going on?" 

"I conjured up this beach house - what do you think?" Marianne gestured around her. 

"Erm... Nice... Look..." 

"And all these books I conjured too." Marianne waved at the shelving along the far walls with the book in her hand as a pointer. "And look... This is my first Austen - she's just wonderful! I'm going to read all of hers for sure..." 

"Marianne..." 

"I want you to know how much happier I am now, Harry, thanks to you. I'm not just a scatty bimbo anymore!" 

"Marianne, you were never a--" 

"And I'll be going away next year - to the big city. I've been granted a working course in the university library there. I'll be learning and meeting new people." She paused. 

"Marianne, I'll be leaving today..." 

"I know," she said brightly. Harry had been half-expecting tears. 

"You know?" 

"Of course - it's the new Hogwarts' Year - back to school for you!" 

"Look, it only means that I won't be staying all the time - but I'll be back every day practising - lunch times and free periods and whenever I can... evenings, weekends... Probably later today in fact..." His voice faded away doubtfully. 

"I will be alright, Harry," Marianne said quietly. She sounded very serious all of a sudden. 

"I don't really understand..." began Harry. 

"I was always whatever you needed, Harry." She paused. "You needed reminding that deep down you still care about others. You needed to help someone other than yourself. Despite everything, despite all your terrible burdens and your own loneliness, you needed to give support to a friend - especially one you didn't like. You cared even about me in the end even while I was still unbearably silly and shallow." She waved her arm dismissively at Harry's attempts to protest and continued, "You cannot overcome evil on its own terms, Harry. A day will come when you will understand." 

Harry stared at the picture calendar unsure of his own feelings. He told himself it made no difference. He had to be independent - not rely on anyone but himself. He could not afford to weaken now - not if he was to survive. He would not yield - not while he was still threatened by Voldemort; not while others withheld their guidance and support; not while poor Cedric Diggory lay unavenged in the earth. And yet he did not wish to disappoint Marianne. 

"Just go, Harry!" laughed the girl, pulling out her hairgrip and shaking her golden hair free. "But remember, pop your head around the door and say Hi whenever you practice, OK?" 

"Yes, right then... erm... I will. I definitely will, I promise." 

"Bye then, Harry!" 

"Bye, Marianne." 

  


—oOo— 

  
  
  
  
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	4. Just Deserts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I think I mentioned in earlier notes, the story comes to an early conclusion considering the amount of Harry's preparation! It just worked out that way. Once you accept that you should enjoy the payback!
> 
> (I've a more drastic Umbridge payback in a developing story but that will be way in the future because it's a much bigger fic.)

* * *

  


  


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**Chapter 4**

**Just Deserts**

  


  
  
  


**Return to Normality**

The sun had long set on the Room of Requirement as Harry Potter finally prepared to leave. It was the start of a new school year and he was not looking forward to losing his freedom. To Harry, it seemed as if the entire world was waiting out there to restrict him, to hold him back - and nobody to guide him, to help him develop his defensive skills against the threat of the Dark Lord. 

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he approached the Room's boundary wall and he considered what lay beyond. Harry took one last look around at the arena which had been his home for the last twelve months. It had been hard work but he had made remarkable progress and he had done it all himself. He did not need Dumbledore; He did not need the secretive Order members; He did not need anyone. It was just too... painful to have friends. Anger and a sense of injustice still simmered deep within him but he would not be looking for help from anyone in the future. 

He went out through the gate in the wall and found himself in the school corridor on the seventh floor again. He remembered to turn over the tapestry on the wall then put on his invisibility cloak and waited in a shadowy corner. Far ahead at the next corner the flames of a wall-torch flickered and occasionally crackled but otherwise all was still and silent and dark. When Harry heard footsteps, he checked his watch. His younger self turned the corner with Dobby who was explaining about the Room. 

"How big can the room be, Dobby?" 

"As big as sir needs." The elf was smiling - clearly happy to be of service to Harry Potter. 

Harry waited until they had both entered the Room of Forgotten Things then he removed his cloak and headed for the Gryffindor common room. 

As Harry reached the Fat Lady's portrait, she said, "Oh, good evening! Nice holiday? It's alright for some I suppose; others have to keep on working." 

He opened his carry bag, took out an old piece of paper and started to recite the password that was written upon it. He stopped half-way. There was a message on the paper he had written to himself last year - he still had the Time-Turner! He had forgotten to put it back so there was nothing in the box that his earlier self and Dobby must by now have reached. There was a sinking feeling in his heart that the entire last year might unravel - would never happen because his earlier self could never go back to start it without the Time-Turner. 

"Well, are you going to stand there all day?" said the Fat Lady. 

"Erm..." he muttered, staring up at her blankly. His face was white. 

"I don't have time for this nonsense, young man! No password, no entrance," she said haughtily. 

"Time! ... You don't have time --but I do!" said Harry excitedly. He called over his shoulder as he dashed off, "I'll be back!" 

"Suit yourself! Don't worry about me," said the Fat Lady then shouted after him, "I'll still be here!" 

Once he found an empty corridor, Harry gave the Time-Turner half a twist. Someone immediately crashed into him almost knocking him over. She was a fourth year girl with long, straggly blonde hair. Harry vaguely remembered her from the train but now she looked amazingly vivid. The training dummies had seemed fainter, thinned out, by comparison yet he had always thought they looked completely real. Perhaps his magical senses were enhanced more than he thought because now he could detect a vibrancy and a solidity about the person in front of him. 

"Oh, hello," said the girl, dreamily, "where did you come from?" 

Harry stared, mesmerised by the first human being he had seen clearly in a year - then blinked. "You're real. You're really real." 

"And you are very odd," she said with a puzzled frown. "I'm not sure I want to--" 

"Sorry!" cried Harry, breaking out of his trance, "gotta go!" He dashed off then called back "Spell went wrong. My fault. Sorry." 

"It's alright - it's probably just a Wrackspurt fuzzed your brain," she called at Harry's receding figure then she added quietly to herself, "He is _very_ peculiar!" 

Harry replaced the Time-Turner in its box in the Room of Forgotten Things then strolled slowly back in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room. He now had plenty of time so he paused to gaze out of a window at the Hogwarts grounds. It was dark but it was good to see a real night sky again after so long; it seemed blacker - the stars brighter and sharper. He did not want to spend another year like his last but he did want to keep training. He pondered how often he might use his practice room during the coming year. He could slip away for an hour or two on most days - more at the weekends. 

As he cogitated the future he heard the echoing commotion of students walking distant stairs and corridors - the opening banquet must be over. After a while he reluctantly forsook his window view and resumed his journey to pick up where he had left off last year: lonely, isolated, and irritable. He knew he had to stay focused on his plan. 

At the Fat Lady's portrait, she snapped, "You again! Don't know if you're coming or going do you?" 

Harry recited the password on his piece of paper then entered the Gryffindor common room. 

If the single girl in the corridor had seemed so vivid to Harry's senses, then the common room was overpowering and he stood transfixed. It was full of the turmoil and noise of students hurrying around sorting out baggage and books, laughing and joking or grumbling and wincing at their weekly schedules. First-years were moving cautiously about - not sure where to put themselves while second-years were swaggeringly-nonchalant know-it-alls. The colours and sounds seemed much more vibrant and powerful than Harry remembered. The impact of so many familiar faces, friends not seen for so long, was overwhelming. There was Neville. His very normality seemed oddly charismatic. To one side of him were Fred and George, large as life, pinning something up on the noticeboard. Dean was there, Seamus, ... and Ginny. Harry stared at the profile of her face as she rummaged through a pile of parchments on top of a table. He hadn't realized just how wonderful she-- 

"Where the hell have you been? We were--" It was Ron pushing in between, obscuring the view. He broke off and stared at Harry. 

"Good to see you again, mate." smiled Harry. _He looks... brilliant!_ "Great to know you, Ron." 

"Are you... Eh? What?" Ron looked baffled. 

Over Ron's shoulder, Harry sensed Ginny had looked up. She smiled at him but there was some doubt in her face. He didn't know how or whether to smile back so he looked past her stupidly. He was overloaded with emotions that fought within him. What was so different about her? He struggled against a pull as strong as a river current. _What is going on? I have to stay focused on my plan._

"What? What have..." Ron was still staring. 

"Come on, Harry! We've saved you some pies... and some pudding. You shouldn't really miss meals like that you know..." 

Harry turned. It was Hermione with a small tray of food that she was placing on a table. Her eyes flashed in pretend annoyance as she looked up but there was genuine concern within her expression. There was an impression of wonderful resurrection that deeply moved Harry's heart. Her decoy now seemed foolishly translucent by comparison but at the time he had thought her lost to him. 

"Food? You know... What you eat?" said Hermione to Harry's blank stare. "--Or rather what you didn't eat?" 

Then he remembered. To her, only minutes ago she had suffered his scathing rejection at the evening meal in the Great Hall. She should have been mad at him for a month - yet here she was, still thinking of him; still willing to offer him a kindness. It was too much. He forgot his commitment to isolation and training. A surge of affection impelled Harry forward to embrace Hermione. She thrust him away, embarrassed. "Just some food... What's got into you!" Then, like Ron, she was staring too as she looked at him properly. 

"Been transfiguring himself" smirked Seamus at Dean, "Seems to fit what we read in the--" 

"Don't!" cut in Neville. "My gran says that's rubbish. Dumbledore's right - You-Know-Who is back." 

Wandlessly, Harry conjured up a full length mirror without thinking. There were gasps all round. Hermione took a step back. "How'd you do that!" 

"Yeah, well my mother says Dumbledore's lost all his marbles," said Seamus, rounding on Neville. 

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. He seemed normal. Then he remembered his earlier self going into the Room of Requirement a few minutes ago. It had been very dark then but the figure now in the mirror was definitely bulkier, taller, lightly tanned, fitter - and a year older. He was aware of a growing argument between Seamus and Neville. He knew what it was about. His annoyance increased when he caught the word 'lies.' 

"You show off! You don't half think a lot of yourself, mate," said Ron, dragging Harry's attention back to himself. 

"Oh yeah - someone gave me erm... a Humbug humbug." said Harry with a false laugh, "You should have seen me a while ago - eight feet tall and muscles like a gorilla. It doesn't last though; it's fading already." 

"A what?" said a voice behind him. "What are Humbug humbugs and where can we get some?" It was Fred. George was just coming over to join him. 

"Oh, erm..." 

"Who gave it to you then, Harry?" asked George. 

"It's all nonsense - what's in the Prophet!" said Neville across the room. "Everyone says so." 

"Oh some fourth year - you wouldn't know him," said Harry, hastily, distracted by the row that was going on in the background. 

"We know all the fourth years, don't we George?" said Fred. They were moving in like a pack of hyenas that had smelt a fresh kill. "What's his name?" 

"So how come Dumbledore got thrown out of the Wizengamot then?" muttered Seamus. 

"Oh mmm... I don't know his name, er... Malcolm something..." Harry was trying to catch what Seamus was implying. 

"Would it be Martin Something?" said Fred. "We know him don't we George?" 

"Yes, that's him... I think," said Harry. 

"Are you sure about that Harry?" asked George, slyly. "Martin is a first year - at another school. Perhaps he's just visiting, eh, Fred?" 

"I doubt it, George," said Fred. "Martin was a first year once - but that was twenty years ago. Oh yes, and he was almost a squib; still is most likely. Didn't know he could do advanced stuff like this." 

"He emigrated, Fred," said George. "Alaska, I think." 

"All right! All right!" said Harry with annoyance. "So it wasn't Martin. Does it matter?" 

"Don't know, Harry. Does it?" said George in mock seriousness. He called after Harry who was slipping away upstairs to the dormitory. 

"See? Can't believe anything he says," said Seamus to Dean, giving up on converting Neville and looking for support elsewhere. 

Now Ron was quarrelling beside Neville too. "That's out of order, Seamus," 

"Fred, I think I do detect humbug actually, don't you?" said Fred. 

"Yes, George. In fact my hard mint confectionery detector has reached hornswoggle levels." 

"Definitely, well past baloney and flimflam wouldn't you say?" 

Harry could hear them still faintly ranting away downstairs. For a minute or two it seemed he had tasted heaven but Seamus' accusations behind his back and the twins jibes had broken his beautiful dream. At least they'd brought him down to earth. He would have no time for friends now. He must focus on surviving - all he cared about was training to survive. _Stick with the plan, Harry!_

He visualised his earlier self and managed to transfigure himself to a pallid, scrawny youth as he had been a year before. _Why'd I even bother about what they think!_ He heard a sound behind him. 

"What d'you want now!" he snapped, whirling round. 

"Your schedule." It was Ron. He stared hard at Harry's changed appearance. "Hermione and me... You left..." 

Harry snatched the schedule from Ron's outstretched hand and muttered an almost inaudible "Thanks." 

"Don't take any notice of them, Harry. I've had years of it. None of their business anyway..." 

"Look, just drop it OK?" said Harry, sullenly turning away. He earnestly wished he was back in the Room of Requirement on his own again. For months he had resolved to stay apart from everyone as much as possible yet this plan seemed to be already crumbling to ashes. He just could not handle friendship anymore. He glanced back at Ron who he sensed was still standing there. He was holding Hermione's tray of food but was obviously too unsure or too uncomfortable to either offer it or take it away. 

An awful surge of guilt seized Harry but he felt too committed to his stance of feeling injustice heaped upon him to attempt any reconciliation. Ron awkwardly put the tray down on Harry's bedside table and crept away muttering softly, "I'll just leave this there for you then..." 

Harry sat on his bed. He felt he had to try to keep angry - or else he might just as well throw himself from the window as wait for Voldemort to kill him. _What might it be like to fly for those few seconds without a broomstick?_ He picked up a pie without thinking and began munching without really tasting it. There were more footsteps on the stairs. _What now?_

Hermione came over but Harry only briefly glanced sideways. She moved as if to sit down beside Harry then reconsidered. She shifted awkwardly over and sat on Ron's bed instead, facing Harry. Harry continued chewing and biting into his pie without looking up. A couple of times he sensed Hermione move and take a deeper breath as if she were about to speak but each time she slumped back. When Harry looked away towards the window he heard her creeping off. She had gone when he looked back. A large cold stone of shame sat within Harry, holding him down in a very dark place indeed. 

  


**Just a Few More Turns**

The next morning, Harry was up very early. He still felt yesterday's emptiness but he resolutely strode along to his practice room. There was some temporary relief in escaping the attention of others. Marianne was not visible so he guessed she was still asleep. He took out his misery and anger on the magical enemy for an hour then showered and headed back. He had noticed his transfiguration had faded during the night and he looked too fit and healthy again. He wouldn't easily be able to sustain an illusion of scrawniness all year. He decided to make the change then gradually revert. He hoped if he could slowly appear to become stronger and healthier-looking over a week or two it would be less noticeable. After that everyone could perhaps forget he used to look so pale and underweight. 

He hardly spoke to Ron and Hermione during breakfast in the Great Hall. They seemed to know when it was best to leave him alone. He exchanged a few words with Neville but he was mostly discussing something about roots and twigs with Dean so Harry found it very easy to keep out of the conversation. 

Next up was a History class and Harry scarcely heard one tenth of Professor Binns' droning statements and remembered none of it at all. Towards the end of the class he did not even try but just stared out of the window. He was being hunted by a ruthless killer who would stop at nothing until Harry was dead. Why then was he then sitting here supposedly learning about Goblin Wars that ended centuries ago? 

He began to wonder if he might ever defeat the Dark Lord. No matter how hard Harry trained and progressed, Voldemort was not treading water either; he was overwhelmingly powerful and Fudge's ministry seemed toothless and inept. It was hopeless. Was there any way the threat could be overcome? 

"Then again ... some of us think we know it all and don't need to pay attention at all, do we... POTTER!" It was Snape. 

Harry was now so withdrawn within himself he could hardly remember even moving from the boredom of History to the tedium of Double Potions. He looked at Neville with whom he was working but he could offer no indication of what had been said just before. Harry heard a snigger from the Slytherin benches. 

"Potter, how will you be preparing the two most important ingredients this morning?" said Snape slowly. He was like a malevolent snake sliding up the aisle between the benches, homing in on Harry. 

"I don't know, sir." 

"You... don't... know," said Snape very slowly. The snake was about to strike. "And how will you explain your partner's demise to the authorities after he has tested your potion?" 

"Poor teaching methods?" The words slipped out but Harry couldn't care less. He heard Hermione gasp somewhere on his left. The serpent struck. "Detention, Potter. Thursday evening. You will bring sixteen inches of parchment for each of the two primary ingredients, defining their preparation. I will not tolerate insolence in my class." 

For a few moments before the potions master swept away, Harry felt his hand tighten on his wand under his robe. His anger was simmering but Snape wasn't his target. He was just part of the nonsense around him. The nonsense that he had to stew in when he ought to be doing what really mattered - preparing to survive. How could anything be more important than that? If there was any justice in the world at all then Snape, Dumbledore, all the teachers, all the Order members, all his so-called friends, would be devoting all day and every day encouraging him, advising him, planning for him, guiding him... 

"POTTER!" Snape again. "Have you any intention of attending this class at all today?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"And what time would be convenient for you?" sneered Snape. "Anytime soon?" 

There was a slight change in the flow of air and a faint aroma of cheap scent. Harry was on his feet instantly, his hand under his robes. Snape looked at him strangely. 

"Trouble, Severus?" 

Harry looked round as did everyone else in the class. The shadow of loathing flew silently through him. It was Umbridge - the real Umbridge silhouetted in the doorway, watching. Harry's training overrode his instinct or she might have died in that moment. He sat down and finding his wand in his hand he began to charm the ugly dry weeds that lay on the bench. 

"Nothing... I... cannot... handle... thank you... Dolores." Snape slid the words out one by one and almost choked the last out at Umbridge - but his eyes never left Harry. 

Harry wondered if it would be possible to escape - get himself expelled so he could run somewhere away from all this; be on his own. But even if he found a place and could support himself he knew the underage trace would make it impossible for him to practise. He needed the Room of Requirement and he needed it badly. 

He fumbled around lighting his cauldron and scraping the brittle weeds together on a glass plate. In the back of his mind he was vaguely aware of Neville directing proceedings under his breath. 

"Harry..." whispered Neville through clenched teeth. "Only half that! The other half is added later, remember? And we don't need the cauldron so hot." Now Neville was worried. "You'll be having a meltdown next!" 

Harry looked around miserably at the ancient Potions classroom. It seemed appropriate. Harry felt as if some terrible instrument of medieval torture was clamped around his head. Just a few more turns of the screw and he would burst. He had no idea how he got through the rest of the lesson. All he could think of was the coming lunch break when he would escape this dungeon and enter the freedom of meaningful combat for a while. 

  


**Kiss And Tell**

Although his lunch break freed him to vent his fury against the training dummies, he found no lasting relief when he returned to classwork. He glanced at the schedule that Ron had given him. He did not care what was being taught, only to which classroom he had to trudge. _Room 3C! - that's..._ He looked again at his schedule to make sure but he knew 3C alright. _Dark Arts! It was the first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson!_ Harry's interest was raised. He had forgotten the one subject that would be of use to him. His pace quickened. 

He was last into the classroom but he was just on time. Then he saw the teacher and remembered who it was. Umbridge was already at her desk at the head of the class and his temporary enthusiasm started to seep away. _Oh well, let's wait and see. When you're fighting against the dark arts then pleasantness is not an asset._

Harry found the only seat vacant was at the desk next to the one that Hermione and Ron were sharing. They glanced at him and he nodded, unsure of how he wanted to treat them. He plunked himself down and pulled out his books and his wand in readiness. He examined it carefully. He had a personal relationship with it that had been reinforced over the last year. He paid scant attention as the class around him chanted "Good Afternoon" to the teacher then it was "Wands away." Harry sighed. What rotten luck. Likely it would be one of those lessons where they learned tactical theory or perhaps methods of combat engagement preparatory for a future lesson. Oh well, at least it would be part of his advancement. He grudgingly shoved his wand back under his robes and prepared to take notes and really attend to the lesson. 

He scribbled down some words from the blackboard but he couldn't see their relevance and then everyone started reading the text book. It was tediously boring so he looked at his watch. Was it really only five minutes since they walked in here? The start of the book was not very promising at all. When will it get to the useful, more interesting sections? It definitely seemed as if his entire life was cursed with bad luck. 

Harry began thinking about luck in combat. Now that was a subject worth studying. He had learnt the hard way how much it could affect the outcome of a duel. He felt confident about taking on one or even two average Death Eaters. He even fancied his chances against one of the more experienced of the enemy but he knew if he faced Voldemort he still had little hope except by some good fortune. Luck had played a major part in his survival so far but it worked both ways: there had been several of his training sessions where he had been caught by a rebounding curse or some unexpected behaviour that nobody could have predicted - such as his opponent tripping over by accident just before Harry's curse reached him. He had learned not to take anything for granted. He made a mental note to study chance events in combat and how one might deal with them. 

He forced his mind back to the book and tried to read the same paragraph yet again. The thing was to be alert for sudden swings of chance when the enemy is... He forced himself back to the start of the paragraph. At this rate everybody would be finished while he was still on the first page. He glanced sideways; Hermione had her hand up. She had probably already read the whole book twice. Back to the paragraph. _She couldn't have._ He glanced at his watch again. They had only been reading eight or ten minutes; even Hermione couldn't have read the whole book. He glanced furtively across again but Hermione's hand was still up. Umbridge was ignoring her. Half the class were watching Hermione now and waiting which was an indication of how boring the book was. 

Finally Umbridge took note. Harry heard them talking about 'course aims' or something. He tried to read his paragraph again. His boredom was passing the squirm threshold; he was bursting with frustration. 

"There's nothing about using defensive spells," said Hermione. 

That caught Harry's attention and he flipped through the book looking at section headings. She was right; where were the actual spells? 

"...can't imagine ... that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger." Umbridge gave a little titter. 

Harry began to wonder what she was talking about. They were in a defence class so obviously they would be learning defensive spells. Had he heard her right? He gave up on his paragraph for the time being. Umbridge was now spouting out her sarcastic toad speak at Hermione. 

"You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-" 

"But what use is that?" snapped Harry without thinking. Was this woman really that stupid? 

Umbridge scolded him for not putting up his hand but then ignored him when he did. Now she was having a go at Dean. What a cow. A great fat cow toad. She said something about 'half-breed'... Did she mean... 

Dean was angry now. "If you mean Professor Lupin..." 

Theory. She was saying now they only needed to study theory. They were not going to actually practise any defence at all! Just theory? Was she completely mental? 

"What good's theory out in the world!" barked Harry. 

"This is school, Mr. Potter." Umbridge's arrogant smirk never seemed to leave her ugly, irritating face. 

A strange thought crossed Harry's mind. _She's alone - separated from her Death Eater friends!_ He shook his head to try to clear his mind. _This is real, Harry, not a training simulation. She works at the Ministry. She's just a teacher..._

Harry returned Umbridge's smirk with a glare. _Has she the slightest clue about defending against Death Eaters and dark magic?_

"Yes?" she said, still with her silly smirk and eyebrows raised in response to his icy stare. 

"But how do we prepare for what's out there?" he demanded, hoping to finally force her into some kind of sensible explanation. 

"There is nothing out there. Who do you suppose would possibly want to harm little children?" 

_Is she completely bonkers or just being sarcastic?_ "Erm... Lord Voldemort?" 

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" 

Harry stared in disbelief. He was not only being forced to sit through these worthless classes but now he had to listen to this foolish, ignorant, toad-bitch babbling completely idiotic nonsense. Her views were not only absurd, they were downright dangerous if she was not even going to attempt to train them to defend themselves. She was now speaking to the class in general. 

"You have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large again. This... is... a... lie!" 

Harry eyes flared. He almost exploded with the anger that had been suppressed for so long. She was calling him a liar; denouncing all that he had suffered. How dare she? 

"It is NOT a lie!" shouted Harry. "I saw him! I fought him!" 

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge, her nose high in the air then she continued, "I repeat, this is a lie." 

Fury pushed Harry over the edge. His training had conditioned him that wherever his wand was, his hand was never far away. He had practised so often retrieving his wand swiftly and furtively that it was concealed against his wrist in a moment and he was on his feet, shaking with rage. The superior, condescending smirk faded from Umbridge's face. 

"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered. 

"So, Cedric Diggory just dropped dead, did he?" 

"This... was a tragic accident." For the first time, annoyance showed in Umbridge's face. "Sit down, Mr. Potter!" 

Something switched over in Harry's mind. He stopped shaking. There was no going back. 

"It ... Was ... Murder," said Harry, loudly, slowly, and decisively. His focus never wavered from Umbridge's face; it was his combat stare. He countered his pallid, scrawny transfiguration and reverted to his true nature. The boy disappeared. He was suddenly bigger, older, and very threatening. 

The whole class gasped and were staring white-faced, back and forth between Harry and Umbridge. 

"You were not there - I was. I saw it happen," exclaimed Harry taking a couple of steps menacingly forward. "I am not going to let you dishonour the memory of Cedric Diggory and spread lies about his death. VOLDEMORT... HAD... HIM... KILLED!" He paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him then he added slyly, "...and YOU know it, don't you?" 

He waited a few moments while the other students uttered exclamations amongst themselves and Umbridge stared, transfixed in disbelief, her mouth gaping. Harry continued, loudly and clearly, "So now we all know who's side YOU are on." 

Professor Umbridge's face went from white to purple as if she were controlling a scream of rage but she eventually brought herself under control and spoke in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear." 

Harry remained standing where he was. 

"You dare to call me 'dear' you loathsome, pathetic old hag?" said Harry evenly. His mind had now moved into a completely different mode of thinking. He was no longer confused, bored, or frustrated. His mind was crystal clear. His rage persisted but it had a real target now. He had taken control of the room and everyone knew it. He continued... 

"When I was faced with Voldemort himself, I refused to let him talk down to me ... AND the most powerful dark wizard of the age failed to defeat me in direct combat. Did you seriously think that a useless Ministry quill-pusher toad like yourself could do better?" 

He kicked his chair aside dramatically without ever taking his eyes off Umbridge. There was an almost imperceptible movement of his arms and the class heard the doors at both end of the room locking themselves. There was astonishment on Umbridge's face now and she fumbled clumsily for her wand - but it was gone before she reached it. Harry caught it as easily as a sleepy Snitch on a tether. He held the wand high between his two hands. His stare never left Umbridge. 

"Let's see how you survive with just theory, Umbridge." 

He snapped the wand in two and cast it aside. There was a clatter as the pieces hit the floor and rattles and scrapings of chairs as many of the students rose to their feet, alarmed at the turn of events. Harry conjured a huge shield to cover everyone except the teacher who now was silent and fearful, struggling to speak. Finally she burst through the astonishment which had almost paralysed her and slowly rose to her feet. 

"You will face trial for this!" squealed Umbridge. She began to walk forwards to Harry but stopped immediately, her eyes widening. A large grey wolf, hackles raised, bared teeth slathering with drool, had stepped in front of Harry, guarding him, blocking her path. Its red eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the wandless Umbridge and its loud snarl chilled her to the bone. Another wolf, black and wild, was approaching from the left - then another from the right - all were focused on Umbridge. She started to take a slow step backwards but she never completed it. 

Harry's wand moved only slightly forward but Umbridge was thrust ten paces back - dashed hard against the stone railing that guided the steps up to the now-locked office behind her. He walked forward and as he did so, Umbridge was thrust again and again onto the stone until her teeth rattled and her eyes bulged in terror. She dangled there, feet off the ground, pressed against the columns behind her, whimpering softly. The wolves moved in threateningly. 

"How dare you lie to thpis class!" exploded Harry - then he continued. "You're working for him aren't you? Voldemort. Or are you really completely witless?" 

"I... I..." blubbered Umbridge. "--don't know what you--" 

"The truth! Tell the class the truth!" demanded Harry but the woman simply looked confused. 

"You will... pay for this I promise you--" she managed to squeak hysterically. 

Perhaps Harry forgot she was real; perhaps he didn't care. He screamed at her, "Just tell them the truth damn you!" He twisted his wand and murmured a short incantation. Umbridge let out a long, wailing shriek. 

"Harry, no! Please no! This is not right..." It was Hermione, begging, pleading. Harry came back to his senses. He paused for a long time, thinking hard then he saw a triumphant sneer forming on Umbridge's face as she sensed his weakness. He had lost. He had been a fool to take on the whole world. He might go to Azkaban if he didn't back down. 

But Harry Potter couldn't back down. He must have the truth out for all to see. He knew exactly what to do. 

He moved to one side and began a slow, quiet chant. Umbridge still was held helplessly like a slaughtered carcass hung against the rail waiting to be butchered. The wolves leaned in like coiled springs; one word would release them to crunch bone and flesh. The rest of the class students were also held but not by magic - they were mesmerised by what they were witnessing; glued to the astonishing sight and anxiously waiting to see what would happen. 

The air in front of Umbridge began to brighten - to fluoresce. The strange ethereal radiance focused and divided into three incandescent spheres which stretched themselves into soft vertical columns of light touching the floor. Within this luminescence the shapes of three white-robed figures became apparent; the central, taller one seemed to dominate. Umbridge stared uncomprehendingly, unable to take her eyes from them. Suddenly she screamed but this was not the simple shriek of pain she had uttered before; this cry uttered itself from the terrible depths of her cold, forgotten soul. 

"Harry, please don't," begged Hermione. She was sobbing. "Please stop it..." 

"It's not me - I'm not doing anything," said Harry, calmly. He went over to the Luminators and stood in front of them, between them and Umbridge, looking at them, breaking Umbridge's eye contact with them. Her screaming ended and she fell silent, whimpering and crying from time to time - dangling on the rail like an unwanted cloak. 

Harry grunted and grimaced as he took the strain. The face of the main Luminator was a silent carving of light. Within its eyes was tender forgiveness willing to be freely bestowed. Harry was swept with feelings of guilt and failure for his momentary weakness. He tried to tough it out but the remorse and shame for what he had just done was almost unbearable. He let go. He yielded to the angelic countenance - to what it was offering him. It was easy once he had accepted it. He repented and meant it. He knew his actions had gone too far and he deeply regretted it. 

His body, which had been convulsed with the stress of resisting, now sagged with relief. He was shining with sweat. He stumbled to one side. 

"You see?" called Harry shakily to Hermione, "nothing to it." but he couldn't bring himself to smile even though he tried. This had been much harder than when he had summoned Luminators before in his training sessions; his guilt had been greater this time. 

Umbridge's gaze was drawn back again to the Luminators' eyes. She screamed again and again - almost unable to draw enough breath for each scream. Some of the girls in the class were covering their ears and turning away. 

"But you're hurting her, Harry! Stop it! Stop it!" cried Hermione. 

"I'm doing nothing, Hermione. She's doing it to herself. The Luminators never harm anyone." He turned to the screaming woman who was writhing and twisting at the stair rail. 

"You will have to let go eventually - why wait?" he shouted anxiously. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead. "Why don't you just let go?" 

Uncomprehending eyes pleaded with him from the face of the stricken woman. 

"Just let go. It's easy to let go! You're just making it hard on yourself - clinging to your stupid lies. You know they're lies! Just let go and accept the truth. You already know the truth," yelled Harry at the desolate woman - then he added more quietly, gesturing at the Luminators, "Or this may never end... Ever." 

But Harry completely underestimated Umbridge's inability to yield her own deep self-deception. So long had she dwelt with falsehood and dishonest thinking that it was her natural element and the toad was unwilling to climb out of its filthy, slimy bog of self-pretence. Harry became aware of the growing agitation and murmurings of his fellow students and he turned to them. 

"Harry... they'll arrest you for this," said Seamus. There was sympathy in his voice and regret. He was now convinced that Harry would not have gone this far for a made-up story. 

"She deserves what she gets!" growled Ron. There was doubt in his voice but others made supportive noises. 

Through all of the deeply recessed windows on one side, weak rays of autumnal sunlight managed to find their way inside the classroom and feebly stroked the desks and floor but their pale, yellowish glow was outshone by the brilliance of the white light that now flared at the far end of the room. 

Parvati squealed and pointed over Harry's shoulder. Harry turned, wand raised. One of the Luminators, the tall one, had approached Umbridge closely and was leaning in, its shining face closing in on hers. Umbridge convulsed. Her eyes rolled in absolute terror and her heels drummed and thrashed loudly against the stone rail behind her. Harry strode forward and tried to grab at the Luminator but it was like trying to grasp light. He attempted to banish the Luminators but only the two lesser ones departed; the most dominant one remained, unwilling or unable to stop the action it had commenced. 

The Kiss of the Luminator lit up Umbridge's face like a shining white sun. She stopped screaming and sagged against the wall, sobbing - sobbing endlessly. The Luminator, having fulfilled its purpose, faded and dispersed and Harry used his wand to lower the woman to sit slumped against the stone. With a few wand movements, he banished the wolves, unlocked the doors and countered the protective shield. Room 3C became very quiet except for Umbridge's dry snivelling. 

The students, seeing it was all over, cautiously followed Hermione and Ron who both went nearer to see the outcome. Harry turned and summoned a glass of water from Umbridge's desk then knelt down and made her drink from it between sobs. He could not despise her now but there was little pity either. She looked shrivelled, like an ugly boil evacuated of its pus. The little bow had slipped from her head and had been pathetically trampled underfoot. 

"Blimey, Harry!" said Ron. "Are you sure you've not... You know?" 

  


**Changing of the Guard**

"This extraordinary meeting of the Wizengamot has been called because I am declaring a state of emergency," declared Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was standing with Professor Dumbledore in the highest court with several Aurors, wands-drawn, on either side of him. 

"What gives you the authority to call this meeting! Where is Fudge?" shouted an angry black-robed witch with a shock of frizzy hair spilling out from under her hood. 

"Power and opportunity is what gives me the authority, Martha!" Kingsley's voice sounded loudly throughout the chamber and he raised his arm to silence other protestors. "I have taken command of the Aurors, arrested the Minister of Magic and--" 

There were fresh cries from the gathered assembly who declared their astonishment aggressively but Kingsley's voice continued to boom out above them all. "Yes, it is a revolution but a bloodless, friendly revolution. I have no intention of clinging to power--" 

"Then why are you here!" spat a fat wizard with a huge moustache; it was quivering with his rage. 

"One reason we are here is for you to elect a new Minister!" This silenced all but a few murmurs. 

Kingsley continued, "As most of you know - or should know - Fudge had at one time been a reasonably liberal and tolerant Minister but he was also self-ambitious and open to manipulation; he was very weak in many ways. We have testimony that he was in collaboration with Death Eaters--" 

"Lies! Lies!" was heard amongst the new uproar at this announcement but others remained silent, waiting to listen to what Kingsley had to say. 

"Interesting..." Dumbledore spoke for the first time and somehow his voice silenced everyone. "It's interesting that certain persons here present should denounce testimony they should not yet have heard nor even know the identities of the witnesses. Perhaps henceforth we should take note of such protestors." 

The obvious threat hung in the air but a bearded wizard spoke up with a sneer in his voice, "What's _he_ doing here? He's been sacked from the Wizengamot - he has no right here at all!" 

"Professor Dumbledore has been a stabilising influence in the wizarding community for a very long time now--" began Kingsley. 

"So now he wants to take over as Minister!" shouted the bearded man, looking around for support but seeing less than he had hoped. 

"The learned Matthew Edridge should take note that I have no interest in assuming power and never have. I shall not be standing for this office even if there was any popular demand for it." said Dumbledore. He turned to Kingsley and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Perhaps they should now listen to the witnesses?" 

"Very well. As our first witness I would like to call the former Senior Undersecretary, Miss Dolores Umbridge," said Kingsley. 

There were many astonished faces amongst the gathered Wizengamot but less outcries now; there was more interest in learning what had happened. 

The woman who shuffled in, physically presented only a slightly reduced impression of the original Undersecretary. She did not carry herself so erect nor bustle about as she used to and her face was only changed in its expression which was now one of timidity and sorrow - yet it was recognisably Dolores Umbridge. No, it was when she spoke that the change was most striking. The personality she conveyed by her tone was not even a ghost of the self that had so dominated public life at the Ministry of Magic previously. Her voice lacked its old arrogance and sarcasm; it did not press or pester, nor did it poke fun, dominate or intimidate. Although her tone was neither furtive nor lacking in conviction, she spoke like an undeserving servant delivering a message from an unfamiliar new master. 

She took the oath quietly then gave a detailed report of the deliberate campaign to discredit Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black and others and the Ministry's obscuration of the testimony concerning the return of Lord Voldemort. She readily admitted to being part of the plot to send Dementors to attack Harry and then to bring him to trial when he surprisingly drove them off. When cross-examined, she replied convincingly without hesitation or doubt. She denounced Fudge and others as co-conspirators and she also condemned herself in the same impersonal manner as though it were someone else. And when asked why she was now risking a sentence in Azkaban to make these statements she replied in an honest way to the astonished court that her long-buried soul had been restored to her and she had had a change of heart. 

"We should not wait further!" declared one of the Wizengamot - a middle-aged witch with short grey hair. "All those named should be--" 

"Already done, Amelia" said Kingsley. "All were arrested before this session was even publicly announced. Malfoy, Yaxley, all of them." 

When Umbridge was led away she did not look at the next witness waiting outside the door as he stared at her passing. It seemed as though her mind was already far away in the cell that awaited her as if she hoped for some relief in penance. 

"Call Harry Potter!" 

Harry entered the court and took the stand. He agreed to take Veritaserum but this requirement was waived by the vast majority of the gathering. He declared every detail of the events that had taken place in the graveyard at Little Hangleton and the full re-embodiment of Voldemort. He named the Death Eaters he knew which did not seem to surprise too many. The former protestors amongst the Wizengamot were now being very quiet, trying to blend into the background and become unnoticeable. There was a sense of change in the air; a new hope; a terrible new challenge yes - but a new beginning: Facing the truth. 

  


**The New Beginning**

Hermione turned from gazing out the common room window at the rain scouring the surface of the lake. 

"But Harry, don't you see? Professor Dumbledore was trying to distance himself from you so that Voldemort had less reason to penetrate your mind..." she said. "And, you did say, he... he admitted he got lots of things wrong..." She glanced at Ron who was leaning against the mantelpiece, nursing a basket of crumpets he had got Dobby to smuggle up from the kitchen. He nodded back in support. 

"He should have told me. He should have explained it to me," murmured Harry. "I still can't forgive him yet." 

"But you've forgiven us, haven't--" 

"Nothing to forgive. You did what he asked. You thought you were... It's only that it was hurting so much I... Friends... Too much pain..." Harry tailed off, his speech as cluttered and incoherent as his confused emotions. "I couldn't bear it any longer." 

"We know, Harry," said Ginny quietly. For some reason that Harry could not fathom, her sympathy soothed him more than all the arguments and explanations to which he had been listening. Her few words were singing within him, lighting something he thought was ever dark and dead. 

"All for nothing anyway," muttered Harry, perhaps hoping to drink more of that nectar of compassion from the young girl. 

"What you talking about?" snapped Ron. "All those Death Eaters rounded up in Azkaban! Fudge gone!" 

"Voldemort --" Hermione glanced sideway at Ron. "You-Know-Who is very much weakened. He needed to infilrate and control the Ministry. Now with Madam Bones as Minister, it will be virtually impossible. They are setting up all kinds of new protections. You've set back You-Know-Who years! He's really angry--" 

"Yeah - tell me about it!" Harry rubbed his scar at the memory of the painful vision he had experienced just after the meeting of the Wizengamot. 

"Still - that's one good thing," he added, "- gives me more time to prepare." 

"Prepare for what?" asked Ron. 

"To kill the bastard." said Harry firmly. "Dumbledore told me there's a prophecy..." 

"A what!" exclaimed Hermione. 

"Prophecy," said Ron. "It's a kind of prediction of what will--" 

"I know what a prophecy is!" snapped Hermione. "Harry, what's this about?" 

"Dumbledore heard a prophecy. He didn't want to tell me before in case I worried too much." Harry rolled his eyes at the ridiculous possibility of him ever being more worried than he had been - then he continued, "Voldemort and me - one of us must kill the other - until then I... I don't have a life." 

"We are all part of your life, Harry," said Ginny. Again, something inside Harry thrilled at the idea of Ginny being included in his life. He wondered why her voice affected him so; it never used to. 

"I can't... I can never give... any of you... anything really. I can't... share..." Harry choked up inside but struggled on, "I don't know how to care anymore." 

"It's because you do care that it's so hurtful, Harry," said Ginny. "You'll understand one day." 

Harry stared at Ginny. Her words seemed so familiar. He thought perhaps he should speak with Marianne. 

"If we can stand your miserable company surely you can stand ours, Harry?" said Ron. 

Harry managed a weak grin and nodded. Hermione laughed both at Ron's quip and with relief at the first trace of light on Harry's face where all had been dark for so long. 

"So that's that then," said Ron with finality reaching for the toasting fork. He added earnestly, "Anyone fancy a hot crumpet and a cup of tea while we wait for dinner? These are like mum makes aren't they Ginny?" 

"Yes, with butter or syrup," said Ginny. 

"Both is best because the butter clogs the holes and helps retain the syrup. Look - I'll show you." Ron skilfully pinioned two crumpets onto the one fork and thrust them towards the glowing coals in the fireplace. 

That did finally squeeze a small laugh out of Harry as his eyes met Hermione's. He shook his head slowly at the absurdity of the change of topic and the others joined in the laughter, grateful for the opportunity. 

"Well, at least you can share a laugh," smiled Ginny. Her expression seemed to fill Harry's world with new light. "That's a beginning." 

"Share a crumpet," said Ron. "That's what it's all about really isn't it?" 

  


The End 

  
  
  
  


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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed Take Umbridge.
> 
> My next fic should be posted within a week or so.
> 
> PS. If you see the end notes from Chapter 1 below here, just ignore them. I've no idea why they are showing. Must be a bug. Let me know if you know how to stop it.

**Author's Note:**

> _This whole short story is 4 chapters long. The next couple of chapters are Harry's training. The final chapter is the payback against Umbridge. The final chapter turned out shorter than I originally envisaged so don't be too disappointed after the big build up!_
> 
> _I think most of you understand the Time-Turner sequence but for those who found it confusing:_
> 
> _It is a famous time-paradox where something appears to create itself. Someone gives a man a lucky dollar. Years later he goes back in a time machine and gives himself the lucky dollar. Where did the dollar originally come from? Here's another: A chicken goes back in time and lays an egg which hatches and grows up to be the chicken that goes back in time to lay the egg. There is also a recent movie that uses this same theme but I won't say which movie in case it's a spoiler. ;) Anyway, here is the Dobby Time Turner sequence explained if you found it confusing..._
> 
> 1\. Dobby shows Harry the Time-Turner in box in RoR.  
> 2\. Harry gets Time-Turner. Goes back 1 hour to before Dobby knows about Time-Turner.  
> 3\. Harry visits Dobby in kitchen; takes Dobby to box in RoR to show him.  
> 4\. Harry puts Time-Turner in box but after Dobby leaves he takes it out again.  
> 5\. The Time-Turner is now returned to the box (in Chapter 3.)  
> 6\. 1 hour has passed so we're back to 1.
> 
> _Comments and reviews are welcome and very encouraging. Thank you._ :)  
>  _\- Tom Haskworth_


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